


Shelter

by this_is_kelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Doctor Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hospitals, M/M, Modern Era, Modern Era AU, Nurse Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_kelly/pseuds/this_is_kelly
Summary: Because sometimes happily ever after doesnt always come easily. Because sometimes you have to hurt a little before you can smile. Because sometimes life gets in the way. Because sometimes when you find love, you have to seek its shelter and hold on tight. Because sometimes its worth it.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 153





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted almost 10 years ago on another site back in the LJ days. Hopefully a new (and maybe old) audience will enjoy it here. And hopefully it still stands up after 10 years.

**__________**

**SHELTER**

**__________**

  
  
**23 December**  
  
Merlin shivered underneath his thick coat and long scarf. He had his dark blue suitcase on the sidewalk next to him. His hands were fisted inside his coat pockets, cold as ice; he had forgotten his gloves at home. There was a never-ending queue of taxis in front of the airport, but he didn’t know which one Arthur was in. He kept his eyes downwards, not wanting to appear too eager or too anxious, and swallowed against the unexpected lump in his throat.  
  
There were large wreaths on the glass doors behind him, the only Christmas decorations in the whole airport, but it was enough to remind Merlin why he was there, waiting for Arthur, and what they were about to do. It had been three years – three years they had been together – and this was the first time they would spend the holiday together in England, the first time Arthur would meet Merlin’s mother, see the house he grew up in, and meet his hometown friends. Merlin wasn’t sure how the visit would go. His town was small, humble, his childhood home tiny, with thin walls, and his friends were loud, drank mead, and had patches on their coats.  
  
A red bag stopped by his feet. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur wearing a white jumper under his expensive black coat. He had the red scarf Merlin had bought him for Christmas last year wrapped around his neck, and he looked exhausted. Merlin had the instinct to reach out and touch him, to kiss his cheek, hug their bodies together, but he just balled his fists tighter inside his pocket and opted for a smile instead. “You made it.”  
  
“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”  
  
Merlin didn’t answer immediately.  
  
“Of course I was coming, Ems. I was in that ridiculous queue of cars and just got out and walked. I hate waiting. Do you have our tickets?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How long is the plane ride?”  
  
“About eight hours.”  
  
Arthur looked at his watch. “We’ll get there around midnight then. Brilliant.”  
  
“There’s a time change,” said Merlin, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Arthur sighed. “When will we get there then?”  
  
“About five in the morning. Come on,” said Merlin, grabbing his suitcase.  
  
“Did you pack everything?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Including the—”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin bit out, walking through the front door. “We’re on Concourse B.”  
  
They walked through the crowd of people in silence, Merlin annoyed and unsure exactly why. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that going back to England for Christmas wasn’t his idea and as much as he missed his mother and Will, he simply did not want to go.   
  
Arthur was only half a step behind him; Merlin could feel his presence. They checked their bags quickly enough, but the security line took them almost an hour to get through and Arthur’s constant sighing and looking at his watch didn’t help matters. Once they were through the line and had put their shoes back on, they made their way to the concourse, finding their gate quickly.   
  
Merlin sat down in a chair in front of the windows and looked out at the rows of large white airplanes. The black ground was wet from lightly falling rain and there were lights everywhere, giving it the illusion of midday even though the sun was hidden behind dark rain clouds. Since security took such an age, they didn’t have to wait at the gate long and they boarded the plane quickly. Merlin found their seats, annoyed that Arthur had changed their tickets from economy to first class, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that arguing about expenses with Arthur was completely useless.  
  
Arthur sat next to him, close enough that passersby would know they were traveling together, but not so close they might guess that Merlin and Arthur were also lovers. Arthur didn’t like displays of affection and even though Merlin often craved his touch, Arthur rarely gave it to him when they weren’t safely inside their house.  
  
“Is your mum going to pick us up at the airport?”  
  
“No,” said Merlin, “I’m sure she’ll be asleep. My friend Will is coming to get us. He’s a barkeep these days, so he usually gets off work around three or four o’clock in the morning. It won’t be much of an imposition.”  
  
“I hope your mother likes me.”  
  
Merlin turned and looked at Arthur. It was the first time Arthur had uttered anything about being worried about the visit to Merlin’s home. Everybody liked Arthur and he knew this; they liked him because he was rich, beautiful, and a successful doctor. Everybody except for Merlin. Those were the things he liked _least_ about Arthur at first but had come to love those vices later.  
  
“She will,” said Merlin. “Don’t worry.”  
  
“I hope Will likes me as well,” said Arthur. “Since he’s your best mate.”  
  
“Don’t let Gwen hear you say that.”  
  
Arthur made a noncommittal noise and let his head fall backwards against the seat.   
  
“You look tired.”  
  
“Exhausted.”  
  
“Good day?”   
  
By now they both knew that when Merlin asked, “Good day?” what he was really hinting at was whether any of Arthur’s patients had died.  
  
“Yes, it was fine. Don’t give me that look. Honest, it was fine. I’ve just been awake since three this morning.”  
  
“I know, you woke me up.”  
  
“I did?”  
  
Merlin felt his face flush as he nodded. “Yes. When you know I’m awake, you say goodbye,” he said quietly, “but when you think I’m still asleep, you sit down on the bed, touch my hair, and kiss me.” He looked up at Arthur.  
  
Arthur sat there, perhaps contemplating. He reached and cupped Merlin’s cheek in his hand. There was something in his eye, a glint or shine, a bit of hope or love. The moment was over quickly and Arthur dropped his hand, settling back against the seat again and closing his eyes.  
  
“Did you find out your marks on your exams?”  
  
Arthur nodded but didn’t open his eyes. “I checked online this morning when all the final scores were posted. I passed everything.”  
  
“Of course you did,” said Merlin, feeling proud.  
  
Arthur opened his eyes and turned his head towards Merlin. “No more exams,” he said and smiled – the first genuine smile in months. “I can breathe now. Well, until third of January, but then it’s only nine more weeks until everything is finished.”   
  
“Good. These last few months have been really hard on us.”  
  
“I know and I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize – it’s all right.”  
  
Arthur yawned and closed his eyes again. He reached over and took hold of Merlin’s hand, entwining their fingers. “I know.” Merlin knew he was asleep when his grip on Merlin’s hand slackened, but as the plane took off, Merlin couldn’t help but smile.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**Almost ten years ago**  
  
Camelot was small town. Not so small that Arthur knew everybody’s name, but small enough that no matter where he went, someone knew he was Uther Pendragon’s son. Uther was a cardiologist, a heart surgeon, who worked out of Camelot Hospital, a notable teaching hospital several hours outside of London. His hours were long and he came home late at night, right before Arthur would go to bed. It was such a normality, Arthur didn’t think anything of his father missing dinner or even missing birthdays and Christmases, but for someone who could never remember whether Arthur liked carrots, Uther took an overactive interest in Arthur’s schooling and social life. Not every boy at school was good enough for Arthur’s friendship.  
  
Arthur moved to London as soon as he could. He had an inheritance from his uncle that he used to let a large flat, buy furniture, and live as luxuriously as he was used to. During his second year, while studying outside in the park, on the grass in the sunshine, a boy in one of his Literature classes approached him. His name was David, he had dark hair and skin, was born in Puerto Rico, grew up in New York City, and moved to London for university. He was complex and spoke with a smooth American accent and by their third meeting had ended up in Arthur’s bed.  
  
It wasn’t the first time Arthur had made another boy come. He had attended St. Paul’s, a school in Camelot for boys. Even though it was only a few kilometers from his home, Uther had insisted Arthur stay at the boarding house during the school year. Arthur resented this; he wanted to stay home with his mother and sister, but after one year, he felt more at home at the school than at his house.   
  
When he was sixteen, he had his first encounter with another boy. It was after football practice, back in Arthur’s private room. They wanted to go into town, grab some fish and chips, but had to stop by Arthur’s to get some money, and somehow ended up tangled together, hands down each other’s shorts, panting strangled breaths into each other’s necks. They didn’t kiss or talk about it afterwards. They came together every few weeks over the next year at school, only stopping when they both went home for summer holiday. The next term, their attraction seemed to have ended, but what hadn’t changed was Arthur’s interest in men.  
  
Arthur dated a girl named Vivian during his last year at St. Paul’s. She made him laugh and helped him with his schoolwork, edited his essays, and went to his football matches. She attended St. Paul’s sister school, and after they’d been dating for six months, Arthur had managed to finally sleep with her. He hadn’t really noticed at the time, but their lovemaking was less than zealous. Vivian was eager, but Arthur – Arthur thought it was textbook, ordinary, and almost boring, but he couldn’t reason why it would be any different than when he was with the boy from his football team. She stayed in Camelot to go to university while Arthur went to London, and he took it as an opportunity to end their relationship.  
  
In London, Arthur stayed mostly anonymous, having very few close friends, so when he met David, everything suddenly changed. David was outgoing, the life of the party, always with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. If they went out in public, Arthur never allowed them to be alone, never allowed David to touch him, and none of his friends ever figured out they were sleeping together.  
  
It was an intense two months which came to a head when Uther rang the doorbell to Arthur’s flat unexpectedly.   
  
“What are you doing here?” were the first words out of Arthur’s mouth when he opened the door.  
  
“Is that any way to greet your father?” Uther walked into the flat and into the living room, the first room at the end of the entryway. He stopped and looked at David, whose bare feet were on top of the coffee table. “Who are you?”  
  
David quickly stood. His lips were red from where he had been kissing Arthur just moments before. “Er, I’m David?”  
  
“Did you get a flatmate?” Uther asked, turning back to his son.  
  
Arthur shook his head. “David is a mate of mine.”  
  
“Are you going to the medical school—”  
  
“ _Father_ ,” said Arthur warningly. “He’s just a mate from university.”  
  
“A mate?” repeated David, staring at Arthur.  
  
“One of my patients checked into the hospital here in London. I’ve been her doctor for the last twenty years, but she was too weak to travel back to Camelot.”  
  
Arthur pressed his lips together, not sure how to respond.  
  
“I came by to see if my son wanted to go to dinner.” Uther didn’t take his eyes off David, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Arthur.  
  
“Right,” said Arthur, “well” – he cleared his throat – “I can change and be ready in ten minutes?”  
  
Uther nodded. “I’ve a car downstairs. I’ll meet you outside.”  
  
Once Uther had left, Arthur dared to look at David.  
  
“You’re not out, are you?”  
  
“Out?”  
  
“No one knows you’re gay,” said David, shoving his feet into his trainers.  
  
“I’m not gay.”  
  
“The fuck you’re not.”  
  
“I’m _not_.”  
  
“The way you suck my cock tells me differently.”  
  
Arthur felt his face heat.  
  
“I thought you were just uncomfortable with public displays of affection – but shit was I blind. Your mates don’t know about me. They think we’re mates, don’t they? Your father has never heard of me.”  
  
“Have your parents heard of me?”  
  
“Yes,” replied David, taking a step closer to Arthur. “I can’t be with someone who can’t even admit he’s gay. I can’t believe I was so blind.” David shook his head. “I’ll see you around.”  
  
Arthur stood, unsure of what to say or do, so he remained silent and let David walk out of his flat and out of his life for good. He could have rang him later, he could have gone by his flat to see him, but he didn’t. He pushed that part of himself as far back inside as he could and refused to think about it.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**23 December**  
  
Merlin gently shook Arthur’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, “we’re getting ready to land.”  
  
Arthur slowly blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked around the plane. “Did I sleep the entire time?”  
  
“Yes,” said Merlin. “For the last six hours at least.” He attempted a smile. “You were in and out, mumbling about blood clots and microeconomics.”  
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He reached over and touched Merlin’s cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. “Because I only remember dreaming about you.”  
  
Merlin felt his face heat and he glanced across the aisle at an older couple who were both staring at them. When they caught Merlin’s eye, they looked away. Arthur dropped his hand and sighed.  
  
“How far away is your mum’s house from the airport?” He shifted in his seat and rotated his neck, doing his best to stretch his body.  
  
“An hour and twenty minutes, I think.”  
  
“I hope I don’t fall asleep in the car.”  
  
“I’m sure Will would forgive you.”  
  
They were quiet until the plane landed. It was still dark outside and Merlin watched out the window as the plane taxied to the gate. For once he was grateful that he was in first class and could deboard the plane first.  
  
“Let’s go.” Merlin stood, but Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down until he sat next to him. “What?”  
  
“Nothing, I just – I hope the holiday is good. I don’t want to ruin it.”  
  
“Why would you ruin it?”  
  
“Have you ever brought a man home to meet your mother before?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “It’s a small town. A quarter of the size of Camelot, maybe smaller. And, well, when you compare it to where we live now, it’s incomparable in size. Not all of the villagers are as open-minded as Mum.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Which is why I hope I don’t ruin the holiday.”  
  
“Arthur, you won’t. You wouldn’t.” Merlin wanted to kiss Arthur, touch the back of his neck, but he knew Arthur would pull away so he just swallowed back his impulses.  
  
“All right.” Arthur let go of Merlin’s wrist and stood, grabbing both his carry-on bag and Merlin’s. They both left the airplane and walked through the airport to the baggage claim, and Arthur grabbed both their suitcases, not letting Merlin take the bags. Arthur slowed his pace as he pulled both suitcases so Merlin could walk beside him. “Are you nervous?”  
  
Merlin swallowed. “Maybe a little.” He walked through the airport and through the front gates. His eyes scanned the few loiterers in front of the airport, looking for Will. “There,” he said, nodding towards a tall, thin man a few yards away. “That’s Will.”  
  
When Will noticed Merlin, he smiled and gave a small wave. He waited for Merlin to walk to him before holding his arms around and enveloping his friend in a tight hug. Merlin grinned, happy to see Will.  
  
“This is Arthur,” said Merlin, stepping back and gesturing towards Arthur, who stood two steps behind him.  
  
Will held out his hand. Arthur let go of the bags and shook Will’s hand; his eyes narrowed slightly, something that Merlin noticed but knew no one else would. For a moment he thought Arthur didn’t like Will, but the flicker of dislike in Arthur’s eye disappeared as quickly as it had come.  
  
“I’ve heard so much about you,” said Will.   
  
Arthur smiled, but it wasn’t as genuine as Merlin was used to. “It’s good to meet you. You didn’t have to pick us up so late—”  
  
“I just got off work. I’m a barkeep at the pub down the road from Merlin’s house, so it’s no trouble.”  
  
“You drove over an hour here, so that sounds like you went to a bit of trouble.”  
  
“Anything for Merlin,” replied Will. “I’m just happy he’s finally coming home for a few days. We used to rip Ealdor apart when we were kids.”  
  
“How’s Mum?” Merlin asked, interrupting Will.  
  
“She’s asleep. I gave her a ride home on my way to work. You need to convince her to get a new job.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “She’ll never agree.”  
  
“Only people who are mad go to work at four in the morning.”  
  
“I suppose,” said Merlin with a shrug, “but she’s a good nurse and the hospital needs someone for the early shift, don’t they? And she’s worked there so long it was no problem for her to get time off work to spend the holiday with me.”  
  
“My car’s over here.” Will picked up the suitcases. Arthur made a motion to take the bags from Will, but Will just grinned and shook his head. “I know you’re probably tired, yeah?”  
  
“Arthur slept on the plane ride, but I was awake. You know I can’t sleep anywhere but my own bed.”  
  
“I know,” replied Will. He walked to the car park, where his old Volvo sat. He put the suitcases in the back of the car and unlocked the doors. Once everyone was in, Will pulled out of the car park and onto the street. “Your mum wanted me to tell you to wake her when you get in.”  
  
“We aren’t going to do that,” said Merlin.  
  
“I know, but she wanted me to tell you anyway.”  
  
“It’ll be nice to spend a couple days with her. I haven’t seen her in almost four years.” Merlin rubbed his eyes; he was growing tired. “Are you coming by on Christmas?”  
  
“Yeah, with the girls.”  
  
“Both of them?”  
  
Will laughed. “Of course both of them. You’ve never met Effy.”  
  
“No,” said Merlin, “and that’s highly unacceptable. And I’ve never met Michelle as your wife either, actually.”  
  
It was a short drive to Merlin’s mum’s house compared to the lifetime they spent on the airplane, and Merlin was really beginning to feel his exhaustion. The door to the house was unlocked, as it usually was, and Will took their suitcases inside for them. He bid them goodnight, promising to see them on Christmas Day, and left. Merlin showed Arthur upstairs to where his childhood room, the room where they would be staying over the next four days, was.   
  
“My mum’s room is downstairs, next to the kitchen,” said Merlin softly. “She sleeps like the dead.”  
  
Arthur looked all around the dark corridor at the top of the stairs and followed Merlin into the room at the very end of the hallway. Merlin turned the lights on. “The bathroom is through that door – there are towels and everything in there already, if I know my mum.”  
  
Arthur smiled and nodded. “Sure.” He walked further into Merlin’s old room.  
  
“You can set the suitcases next to the wardrobe,” Merlin said, sitting down on the end of his old bed, which was covered in a blue and red plaid duvet. “My mum hasn’t changed anything in here. It’s the same as when I was sixteen and left for university.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes roamed the room and Merlin looked at everything Arthur looked at. The walls were mostly bare. There was a tall bookshelf, jammed with books, and a bedside table with an old lamp and an empty picture frame. Next to the door was a framed diploma from New York University.  
  
“Did your mum put that up?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “She was really upset that I ran away to America when I was sixteen, but she was proud of me that I finished university there. I think she was more upset that I ran away, which is how it was, really. I couldn’t stay here and I applied to New York on a whim, but my uncle had always said he’d pay for university and, well, he did. The tuition, I mean, I paid for everything else.”  
  
“I ran away to America, too. My mum used to say I was really good at running away.”  
  
“I hope you’ve grown out of that particular flaw.”  
  
“I have,” said Arthur. “I’d never run away from you.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “All right.”  
  
Arthur closed the bedroom door and turned to Merlin.  
  
“Did you want to shower before bed?” asked Merlin.  
  
“No. I’ll shower in the morning.”  
  
“Shall I get your pajamas?”  
  
“No, shut up, Merlin.” Arthur sat next to him on the bed. “You’re acting nervous.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be nervous. Just be normal.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “I know, I’m sorry. This house – this town isn’t quite what you’re used to. My uncle used to work in Camelot at the hospital and I’ve been there a few times. It’s a really rich town. _You’re_ rich. And this house is small and my town is poor, and it’s just not what you’re used to.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter to me.”  
  
Merlin looked down at his hands sitting in his lap.   
  
“You’ve lived with me for a while now – do you not like it there?”  
  
“No, of course I do. But, you know . . . it’s _your_ house and—”  
  
“It’s _our_ house. It’s just a stupid house, we can find another one.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Merlin swallowed. “Oh,” he repeated.  
  
Arthur laughed and Merlin’s head jerked up in surprised.   
  
“Why are you laughing?”  
  
“Because you’re absurd.” Arthur cupped Merlin’s face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across Merlin’s cheekbones. “I don’t care about that shit – money and whatever else. Yeah, this room is half the size of my bedroom growing up, but I spent five years at boarding school where my room was smaller than this one. Houses are just houses.” Arthur brushed his lips against Merlin’s. “I love you, Ems.”  
  
Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur rarely said it, sometimes so infrequently that Merlin yearned for him to breathe the words quietly against his neck as they made love, and so the times he admitted it, Merlin’s heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat.  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispered.  
  
“Does your bedroom door lock?”  
  
Merlin opened his eyes and nodded.  
  
“Lock it. I want to fuck you in your mother’s house.”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**Seven years ago**   
  
Whether Uther knew there was something going on with David or not, he didn’t mention it to his son. Arthur was careful and for the rest of university, he didn’t bring any men home with him. He went out with his friends, drank a lot of whiskey, and played a lot of football. Soon it was time to think about medical school and Arthur knew where he wanted to go but was not sure how his mother and father would react.  
  
The Christmas of his last year in university found Arthur back home in Camelot. It was a four hour train ride from London, and he met Morgana at the train station. She drove up in their father’s car and jumped out, giving Arthur a rib-breaking hug. Morgana was almost three years younger than Arthur and looked nothing like him. Arthur was short with an athletic build, all arm muscles and broad shoulders, his hair blonde, eyes blue, and jaw line square and hard. Morgana was fair, with dark curly hair, green eyes, and a body of nothing but smooth curves.   
  
“I’m so glad you came home!”  
  
“How’re Mum and Dad?”  
  
Morgana rolled her eyes. “Insufferable.” She climbed back behind the wheel as Arthur put his bags in the back of the car.  
  
“What’s the theme this year?” asked Arthur as he got into the passenger’s seat and fastened his seatbelt.  
  
“The new bloke I’m dating,” said Morgana as she pulled away from the curb. “Dad is furious, but Mum is in denial.”  
  
“Why, what’s wrong with him?”  
  
“Nothing, but if you ask Dad, he isn’t good enough for me. He’s a policeman.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “Leave it to you to find the worst profession. Dad hates police.”  
  
“He’s also a bit older than me, but mostly they don’t like that he’s not a doctor. Please tell me you’re not going to go to medical school.”  
  
Arthur laughed. “No, I’m definitely going.”  
  
Morgana groaned. “I am so sick of doctors!”  
  
“I’m not going to school in Camelot, though.”  
  
“Thank god. Dad would be nauseating if you did. Which school did you choose? Isn’t that mate of yours from St. Paul’s going to medical school in Oxford?”  
  
“No idea. Don’t tell Mum and Dad yet, but . . . I’m not going to medical school in London.”  
  
“Oh. Where the hell are you going then?” Morgana pulled into the drive of their parents’ house. She put the car in park and turned it off but made no move to get out.  
  
“I was accepted at three different medical schools in America—”  
  
“ _What_?” shrieked Morgana. “Oh, Mum’s going to scream when you tell her. And Dad – oh, shit, I should sell tickets.”  
  
Arthur rubbed his eyes.  
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
“Doing what? It may surprise you, Morgana, but sometimes I do things _I_ want to do. I don’t want to live my life for our father. If I did, I would go to medical school, work at Camelot Hospital for a few years, and then take over Dad’s practice – none of which I want to do.”  
  
“Which schools did you get into?”  
  
“Well. I’m only considering two of them. New York University and Emory University.”  
  
“I’ve never heard of either of them.”  
  
“I’m not surprised,” sighed Arthur. “I don’t know. Two of my Anatomy professors went to school in America, so I asked them where to apply and just did it.”  
  
“You’re never been so impulsive.”  
  
“I’ve always been so impulsive.”  
  
Morgana shook her head. “I’m glad you’re willing to completely ruin your relationship with Dad in order to do what will make you happy.”  
  
“I don’t know if it’ll make me happy, but I can’t keep doing what Dad wants just to avoid a fight.”  
  
“So you’re running away.”  
  
“Well. That sounds – that’s not exactly – well. Yes. I’m running away.”  
  
“I love you. I’m so glad you’re home,” exclaimed Morgana. “This will take all the focus off of my policeman.”  
  
“Well, I’m so glad I can help you,” said Arthur sarcastically. “I’m going inside.”  
  
Christmastime had been tense ever since Arthur left for university. Both of his parents wanted him to stay in Camelot and go to university there, but he’d decided to go to London instead, to experience life “on his own.” His mother insisted he come home often, so the first year he lived in London he took the train to Camelot once a month, but it became such a chore that Arthur stopped going back altogether, save Christmas. That year had been no different and every time his parents asked why he wouldn’t come home, Arthur told them he was too busy with his studies and football.  
  
Morgana walked inside behind Arthur, a smug grin on her face. They made it through dinner and pudding before she let the ball drop, and immediately Arthur forgot about all the reasons why he loved her so much.  
  
“I’m going to kill you,” he mouthed to her from across the table. She just shrugged and sipped her wine. He knew it was because their father had begun to drill her with questions about her policeman again and she wanted the attention on someone else – on _him_ – so she said, “I hear America has a lot of crime. Maybe Leon can get a job over there and we can go live with Arthur across the pond.”  
  
Uther’s head whipped so quickly from Morgana to Arthur he surely got whiplash. “You are living _where_?”  
  
Arthur picked up his glass and downed half a glass of red wine, hoping it would numb him to the rest of the conversation.  
  
“I applied to medical school in America.”  
  
“Why on _earth_ would you do that?” asked his mother, Ygraine. She gave her son a puzzled look. “You know those Americans are ridiculous. You will never find a suitable wife in America. Did you apply to Camelot University?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“No? Why the hell not?” demanded Uther. “You would automatically get accepted!”  
  
“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to go somewhere that will just take me because I’m _your_ son. I’d rather get into school on my own merits. Look, I’ve been in London for almost four years and I’m ready for a change.”  
  
“If you want a change, you buy a new pair of shoes or let a new flat,” said Ygraine. “You don’t buy a plane ticket to America. You don’t even know anyone there.”  
  
“I know. It’s going to be brilliant.” Arthur reached for the wine bottle and uncorked it. He filled his glass a little too high but immediately began to drink from it. “I was accepted to some really great universities over there, you know. You should be proud.”  
  
“What kind of life can you build over there?” asked Uther. “You know those Americans, always in the news for doing something completely inane. Their morals—”  
  
“Are you serious?” laughed Arthur. “How many Americans do you know?” He held up his hands and shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter about Americans or about that country. It’s about me. If you trust me, then you can trust that I will go over there and be the same person I am here.”  
  
“I’m not paying for you to go some school in America!”  
  
“You don’t have to. I have all the money from my inheritance. It’s more than enough to pay for four years of medical school.”  
  
“I should never have allowed you to go to university in London. I don’t know why you didn’t just begin medical school immediately, as I did. You wanted to be a doctor and always have – why waste my money on university when it was completely useless?”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “Because in America, you have to have a degree _before_ you enter medical school. And I thought it would be easier to work as a doctor there if I had gone to medical school there.”  
  
There was silence as everyone stared at Arthur. Morgana kicked him from under the table. The look in her eye was absolutely mischievous.   
  
“So you’ve planned this all out?”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “It was in the back of my mind for a while, yes. But I had some professors at university who helped convince me. . . .”  
  
“And after four years? When school is over?” asked Ygraine. “Do you really want to build a life over there?”  
  
Arthur shrugged again. “I don’t know. I may go over there and like it, and I may go over and hate it. Either way, I’m going to medical school there, and that’s the way it is.”  
  
“I forbid you to go,” said Uther, a dangerous tone to his voice. “And _why are you smiling_?” he snapped, looking at Morgana who was smiling behind her wine glass. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten all about that serviceman you’ve been running around with. We’ll get to you next.”  
  
“You can’t forbid me to go,” said Arthur. “I’m an adult and besides, I’m still going to medical school. You wouldn’t accept for me to be anything other than a doctor anyway, and that’s what I’m going to do so just drop it.”  
  
“When I was your age, I was engaged to your mother and we were married halfway through my own schooling. You haven’t courted a girl since Vivian.”  
  
“Courted? Dad, be serious.”  
  
“He is serious,” said Ygraine. “We worry about you. You seem to go out with your mates all night and get drunk. You never bring a girl home to meet us.”  
  
“I’m twenty-one! You can’t be serious!”  
  
“We want to make sure you’re thinking of your future,” said Uther very slowly. You need to calm down, get your head out of the clouds, go to Camelot University, and find a nice Camelot girl. You may be young, but you should be married by the time you finish medical school. You’ll be overwhelmed with work and you need a woman at home to help relax you and help care for your home.”  
  
Arthur shook his head and laughed in disbelief. “I don’t want to marry,” he said quietly, drinking the rest of his wine.   
  
“Not now,” said Ygraine with a nervous laugh, “but you will one day, when you meet the right girl. People get married later and later in life these days. If you’re thirty, that’s all right, I suppose.”  
  
“No,” corrected Arthur, “not ever. I’m not the marrying kind.”  
  
“Of course you are,” yelled Uther, slamming his fist down on the table. Morgana jumped in surprised and sloshed her wine on her dinner plate. “Don’t be completely absurd, Arthur.”  
  
“I’m not! I’m not absurd at all! I’m perfectly sane. I’m going to school in America and if you want to stop me. you’ll have to kill me. And I’m not getting married. Not now and not ever, so if that bothers you so fucking much, _Father_ , then you can just write me out of your will and give my inheritance to Morgana.”  
  
Uther fumed as Arthur stood and stomped out of the dining room. He went to his room and slammed the door behind him.   
  
The next Christmas he was in America and didn’t come home. He told his mother he hadn’t been able to get away from school because of exams, but at midnight, when Christmas Eve became Christmas Day, Arthur took a shot of tequila, kissed the man sitting next to him at the bar, went home with him, and bedded him. When he woke up the next morning, he quickly dressed, wished a “Happy Christmas” to the man passed out in the sheets next to him, and walked the few blocks home to his flat where he could open the presents his mother had sent him. As he ripped open the paper, he tried to pretend they were from Father Christmas instead, like memories from the days when he was a child and Christmas was happy, full of blinking lights and thick stockings, and nothing like the Christmas of that day: lonely and bare.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Arthur was in the top third of his class in medical school, scored well above average on his step two of the boards, and when he was twenty-five, he started interviewing at the hospitals where he would start his internship. He chose nine hospitals and interviewed at each. Afterwards he ranked them in order of his preference and waited to see where he would match. The matching process was rather stressful, mostly because Arthur liked _definites_ and was always two steps ahead when planning things out, and waiting for a computer program to tell him where he matched did not help him figure out his future plans.  
  
He had been in New York for the last four years and he was more than ready to leave the city for something new. His flat was large and only a few blocks from the hospital where he had done his rotations for the last year, but it didn’t feel like home. Being so far away from Camelot gave Arthur a new sense of security. He brought home several men over the four years he lived there and while the sex was mostly anonymous, there were two men he saw several times, but somehow things fell apart. Both men had broken off the affairs, citing both Arthur’s egotism and insecurities as the reasons. It didn’t hurt Arthur’s ego at all; he knew how he was and he hadn’t allowed himself to get emotionally attached anyway.  
  
Hiring movers seemed more sensible than doing the work himself, and in two days, all of Arthur’s possessions were packed into neat boxes, his furniture padded and wrapped, and everything placed in the back of a large moving truck. Arthur took a plane south, leaving behind medical school, but not the long hours and sleepless nights. The plane took him to a new state, a new teaching hospital, and a new life – hopefully.  
  
Somehow he got sucked into emergency and was quite unsure how he ended up there. The hospital where he worked was the public hospital, and every day was full of gunshot and stab wounds, car accidents, and general tragedy. His shifts were sometimes thirty-six hours long, and he had to keep three pairs of scrubs in his locker at a time to change into when the pair he was wearing got soaked with blood.   
  
He struck up a friendship with another doctor, a resident surgeon named Lance. Lance was tall, dark, and reminded him very much of David, except Lance was as straight as they came. He was three years older than Arthur but extremely youthful and pleasant. He was ready to become an attending but wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay at the public hospital or not. Working at the only level one trauma hospital within a hundred mile radius certainly proved interesting, but Lance was laidback. He preferred a quieter life, one that perhaps a private hospital could provide, one that didn’t have him operating on so many gunshot victims.  
  
“I don’t know how you put up with that shit,” Lance said one day over lunch in the cafeteria, which was on the ground floor of the hospital. Arthur had a bruise on his cheek where one of his patients slugged him in the face after refusing treatment for a stab wound from a drug deal gone bad. “At least when I see them, they’re under anesthesia and I don’t have to talk to them. These patients who come in here – they’re doped up on drugs or drunk off their – how do you say it? – arses?”  
  
Arthur laughed. “Arses, yes. Good, I like how you’re learning how to speak British. It’s not so bad. A kid did spit on me the other day when I tried to look at his knee where he’d sliced it on a rock after falling off his bicycle. He wanted me to stitch him up without any anesthetic.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“I told him nurses did that shit for me, and if he spat at me again that I’d let him sit there for another eight hours.”  
  
Lance laughed. “You’re such an ass – I mean, arse. When’s your next day off?”  
  
“In about ten years at the rate I’m going. I think I’m so full of caffeine I could bleed coffee.”  
  
Lance laughed. “Come on, I need an oxygen break.”  
  
They threw their leftovers in one of the rubbish bins, put their trays on the return-counter, and left the cafeteria. They walked through the back corridors of the hospital until they got to the back service entrance. There was a loading dock that was used when the trucks came to deliver large orders of medical supplies. It was also where all the medical staff went to smoke cigarettes and play half-court basketball during their breaks.   
  
Lance took his pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and offered one to Arthur. “It’s good for you,” he said. “Everyone needs a vice.”  
  
“I’ve got enough vices,” replied Arthur.  
  
Lance shrugged, put the cigarette to his lips, and lit it. “What vices?”  
  
“Drinking.” _And men_ , thought Arthur, but he didn’t think he was good enough friends with Lance to tell him that particular secret.  
  
“When was the last time you were drunk?”  
  
“Pissed.”  
  
“What?” Lance’s eyebrows furrowed together.  
  
“Pissed,” repeated Arthur. “I’m furthering your British education. When someone is drunk we say ‘pissed.’”  
  
At that moment, several ambulance sirens blasted through the air.  
  
“I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to work at a public hospital.”  
  
“Someone has to do it,” said Arthur. “They put all the new interns and residents here because no one else wants the job, but the two of us, we’re not complete imbeciles. They could have some doctor here who was in the bottom third of his class and fucking everything up.”  
  
“That’s true. I’ll be glad when they let me rotate to one of the other hospitals. How come you never go anywhere else?”  
  
Arthur shrugged. There were eight hospitals around their city, all independent until ten years ago when Candler Memorial Hospital expanded and took over five of them. The names of the hospitals changed to reflect being run by Candler: what was one once Ponce Medical Center had become Candler Memorial at Ponce, Eastside Hospital was now Candler Memorial at Eastside, and so on. The original Candler building was exclusive and expensive, with large single rooms where patients never had to share with anyone, and floors which were always fully staffed.   
  
The thing about Candler Memorial was that _everyone_ wanted to work there. So doctors, fresh out of medical school, all applied, only to be issued out to one the other five hospitals, none of which were as nice as Candler Memorial. Normally they were able to hop from hospital to hospital every three months, gaining experience at each location, but Arthur always remained at the public hospital and didn’t ask for assignment anywhere else. He didn’t suppose he had a reason; he didn’t love the hospital, but what he said to Lance was true: there was something about being at the public hospital, full of the city’s poor and desperate, people devoid of humanity and privilege, that made Arthur want to be there and help. He knew himself, knew he could be great at his hospital, Candler Memorial at Grayson. He was a doctor and had chosen medicine to help people, to heal, and he knew that the sorts of patients who ended up at the Grayson building were the kind who probably needing healing the most.  
  
Just then, the service door opened, and a man and a woman walked out. The woman wore a button-down shirt and a straight skirt that fell just above her knees. Her footsteps clicked as her heels hit the concrete. Both her skin and hair were dark, darker than Lance’s, and she was oddly attractive. She had a nametag clipped to the belt loop on her skirt, but she was too far away for Arthur to read it. The man she was with wore green scrubs, which meant he was a nurse. He had a long-sleeve shirt underneath it, the sleeves scrunched up to his elbows. His trainers were white and blue with frayed laces. His nametag hung off the front pocket of his scrubs. He lit up a cigarette, but the woman he was with didn’t. Arthur studied them, unsure of their relationship, and was momentarily caught off guard on how interested he was to find out.  
  
“Her name is Gwen,” said Lance.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Gwen,” repeated Lance. “The woman you’re staring at?”  
  
Arthur’s eyes were resting on the nurse – his messy black hair that wasn’t quite long enough to hide his large ears. He was all sharp angles, with long fingers and a quirky smile. He wasn’t even attractive. No, he was. Well, maybe. Arthur couldn’t decide. He was certainly not the type of man Arthur was usually attracted to, which was unnerving. Arthur usually took home men who were like him – muscular, handsome, athletic. In New York, he had bedded more than one model and perhaps even a semi-famous actor who was still in the closet, though Arthur would never admit to any of it.   
  
“Oh, right,” said Arthur, looking back at Lance. “She’s okay-looking. I’ve seen better birds.”  
  
“Birds?”  
  
“Women. Er, you lot call them chicks.”  
  
Lance smiled. “Right. She’s in administration. I’m not exactly sure what she’s in charge of. I’ve been thinking of asking her out for a while.”  
  
“You should,” encouraged Arthur. “Looks like she doesn’t take oxygen breaks, though.”  
  
“But her friend does, so she clearly isn’t opposed to it.”  
  
“I’ve never seen that nurse before,” said Arthur, trying to be casual. “Where does he work?”  
  
“ICU. I don’t know his name, but he’s always with Gwen. I’ve handed off several patients to him after surgery.”  
  
“Right,” said Arthur. “ICU.”  
  
Right then Arthur’s mobile went off. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at it. “Oh, shit,” he said so loudly that Gwen and her friend turned and looked at him. He glanced at Lance and then at them. “Traffic accident,” he said loudly, as though that gave his early shout an explanation. “Must’ve been what all the sirens were from.”  
  
“Bad?” called Gwen from across the dock.  
  
Arthur looked at the second text message that came through. “Yeah. One of those big trucks—”  
  
“Tractor trailers,” offered Lance.  
  
“Yeah, those,” said Arthur, “only it says – Christ, stop sending me texts!” he yelled at his phone. “All right, bye!” He ran from the dock, through the service door, and down the corridor. He didn’t bother waiting for the lifts and took the stairs upstairs.  
  
Once he got to the ED, he found out that it wasn’t just a tractor trailer, it was actually a truck carrying gas. It hit another truck, turned over, and spilled gas all over the highway, causing a fire and injuring so many people that the hospital had to shut down its trauma unit to all other emergencies except for casualties from the accident.  
  
Arthur ran from patient to patient, treating burns and broken bones. Everyone needed a bed, several needed surgery. He paged Lance twice to come down for a surgical consult, only to be told that all of the operating rooms were being used. It was a disaster, a massacre, and Arthur had never felt more alive – until he got his final patient. He went opened up the curtain on bed four and saw a little boy, no more than seven, shaking on top of the white sheets. The boy was covered in burns from the car accident. He was all alone.  
  
Arthur looked at the boy’s chart. He checked the boy over, being extra careful not to wake him. Then he checked the chart again to see who had first looked at him and administered his IV. “NURSE ADAMS!” Arthur yelled. When a young-looking nurse ran over to him, Arthur rounded on her. “Why the hell am I only looking at this patient now?”  
  
“You’ve been busy,” she snapped, “and he’s got an IV. We did everything—”  
  
“He’s in a much dire state than several of the other patients I saw before him.”  
  
“That’s not my opinion, Arth—”  
  
“Excuse me? What did you call me?”  
  
Nurse Adams eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” Her nostrils flared and her cheeks turned red. “I’ve worked here for eleven years, _Doctor_ , and you’ve worked here for eleven minutes. That patient has had pain meds, he’s sedated. Does he have second degree burns? On part of his body, _yes_ , but—”  
  
“Eleven years is no excuse for being a complete moron.”  
  
Nurse Adams looked as though she might lunged at Arthur, but an arm held her back.  
  
“Whoa, calm down,” a voice said.  
  
Arthur’s eyes quickly sought out the owner of the voice. The accent sounded English, similar to Arthur’s, and he was more than surprised to see that the owner was the nurse who had been smoking outside a few hours earlier.  
  
“Both of you are having a battle of egos,” said the nurse.   
  
Arthur looked at his nametag: Merlin Emrys.  
  
“Whatever, Merlin,” said Nurse Adams. “If this doctor calls me a moron again, I’m going to—”  
  
“Don’t call her a moron,” said Merlin. “Why are you yelling in the first place? This place is loud enough without your pitch being added to it.”  
  
“This boy needs to go to surgery _now_.”  
  
“He’s _fine_ ,” snapped Adams.  
  
“Tell that to the fucking internal bleeding that you missed.”  
  
Merlin let go of the nurse and ran to the patient. He ran his fingers along the boy’s abdomen where his seatbelt must have been. “Feel here,” he said to Adams. “How long has he been here?”  
  
“I don’t know – a few hours.”  
  
“I’ll take him to radiology, but he’s probably got liver damage – you can tell because of—”  
  
“No, no, I see it. Fuck it, I’ll take him. Move out of the way.”  
  
Merlin helped Adams with the brakes of the bed and removed the IV bag from the hook, placing it on the bed. “Where’re his parents?”  
  
“They’re dead,” said Adams, her voice flat.  
  
Just as she said it, the boy’s eyes opened and he looked around frantically. Arthur took two large steps to the side of the bed.  
  
“Do you know where you are?”  
  
“Hospital,” said the boy. “Where’s my mom?” Tears leaked from his eyes and he began to cough.   
  
“She’s, er, in another bed,” lied Arthur. He’d had to tell family members before that their loved-ones had died but never a seven-year-old boy. “We’re taking you to radiology.”  
  
“What’s that?” The boy began breathing heavily and unevenly.  
  
“We need to take pictures of the inside of your body.”  
  
The boy grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Don’t leave me.”  
  
Arthur stared at the small hand wrapped around his forearm, unsure of what to do. “Okay,” he said, “I won’t.”  
  
Arthur helped Adams take the bed to radiology. While the boy was inside, Arthur waited in the corridor, sitting down in one of the waiting chairs. His head was in his hands, his elbows on his knees. Even though he didn’t smoke, for a moment he wished he did so he could claim need for an oxygen break and escape outside.  
  
“She’s human.”  
  
Arthur looked up. Merlin had sat down next to him in one of the radiology waiting chairs.  
  
“I mean, she made a mistake, but you didn’t have to yell at her like that. You have to get the nurses on your side and if you’re a prat, they’ll never have your back and you’ll be out of allies.”  
  
Arthur blinked. “Are you serious?”  
  
“Of course I am. You doctors are all the same. You act like God because you’ve got two extra letters at the end of your name, but having an M and a D doesn’t give you the right to order other people about like you actually _are_ God. The thing is, nurses do all your dirty work. We draw blood, put in IVs, sew in stitches. You see patients for ten minutes a day and the rest of the time, patients see nurses.”  
  
“Are you always this assertive?”  
  
“Just when I see someone being a complete arse.” Merlin stared right at Arthur, as though daring him to say something. “My name is Merlin Emrys. I know almost everyone and you can find me on the fifth floor, ICU, if you have any questions about how to have appropriate interpersonal relationships.”  
  
“I cannot believe you’re speaking to me like this. Do you know who I am?”  
  
“You’re Arthur Pendragon,” answered Merlin, pointing to Arthur’s nametag. “M.D. – Mostly Daft? Or just Majorly Defected? Have a nice day.”  
  
Arthur watched Merlin walk down the corridor and back towards the Emergency Department. He had no idea at that moment he had just been told off by the future love of his life.  
  
  


**__________**

**Shelter 2/7**

**Title** : Shelter  
**Rating** : NC17   
**Word Count** : 55K  
**Summary** : Because sometimes happily ever after doesn’t always come easily. Because sometimes you have to hurt a little before you can smile. Because sometimes life gets in the way. Because sometimes when you find love, you have to seek its shelter and hold on tight. Because sometimes it’s worth it.  
  
[Part One](http://this-is-kelly.livejournal.com/346629.html#cutid1)  
  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
During the next few weeks, Arthur saw Merlin around the hospital at least once a day, normally out back smoking with Gwen who always seemed to be smiling; Arthur had never seen such a positive-looking person before. Even though he didn’t smoke, he liked the refuge of the loading dock, where only a handful of doctors and nurses went. Sometimes he brought his lunch or dinner out there, sitting on the edge of the platform, breathing in the thick dirty air of the city. More often than not, Lance accompanied him, but even when Lance was in surgery or had the day off, Arthur still ventured to the loading dock on his own.  
  
Whenever he saw Merlin, he couldn’t help but look at him, noticing that Merlin’s hair grew longer as winter approached, and after a few times, he noticed Merlin looking at him, too. His heart always stopped beating for two and a half moments whenever their eyes met.   
  
The day Arthur turned his calendar from October to November, he went to work at eight in the morning, gearing himself for a twelve-hour shift. Outside it was freezing cold, and Arthur had to take his coat. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and the alarm on his phone set so he would know exactly when it had been thirty minutes for his lunch break even though those rules weren’t really enforced for doctors. The weird thing about Americans was that it was impossible – _impossible_ – to find good tea inside any hospital. If he wanted, he could have walked the few blocks to Starbucks, but he didn’t feel like running all the way back to the hospital if there was a line, which there inevitably would be. He’d grown accustomed to coffee over tea, but sometimes he couldn’t help but want a little English Breakfast.  
  
Lance was in surgery, assisting with the hospital’s head neurosurgeon, so when the service door opened he had no idea what prompted him to look up and expect to see his friend. It wasn’t Lance, of course, but Merlin.  
  
“You cut your hair.”  
  
Merlin looked down at where Arthur was sitting at the dock and reached up and touched the ends of his hair. He lit up a cigarette and pulled his coat closer around his chest. He offered the pack to Arthur, who for some unknown reason took one. Merlin sat next to him and clicked his lighter; Arthur leaned close, allowing Merlin to light the cigarette.  
  
“I did, yeah,” muttered Merlin. “But now my ears show.”  
  
“They’re not so bad.”  
  
Merlin looked at Arthur as though Arthur had just grown a third head.  
  
“I don’t think they’re bad,” reiterated Arthur.   
  
“It’s supposed to snow,” said Merlin, looking up at the gray sky.  
  
“It’s only November. Does it usually snow this early?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “That’s what the telly said. It’s almost fifty degrees in New York, but only thirty here, even though we’re so much further south. Mad, isn’t it?”  
  
“Mmm,” hummed Arthur noncommittally. “Sometimes I miss New York.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“You’ve been there?”  
  
Merlin gave Arthur _the look_ again. “Oh my god,” he said, laughing. “You don’t remember me at all, do you? I mean, I knew you were an arse, but I thought – I thought that’s why you kept looking at me.”  
  
“What are you on about?”  
  
“I went to university in New York, same as you. We worked at the same teaching hospital. I moved down here two years ago, so you must’ve been a second-year medical student when I finished up my nursing degree.”  
  
“I thought you looked familiar,” reached Arthur.  
  
“Oh, don’t placate me.”  
  
“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied—”  
  
“With yourself?” finished Merlin.  
  
Arthur felt his face flush. “Maybe. Probably. Is it really going to snow?” he asked, trying to change the subject.  
  
Merlin looked amused. “Probably. But down here, it doesn’t just snow, it ices, and this hospital will be _jammed_ full of patients. Are you from London? Your accent . . .”  
  
“Camelot,” replied Arthur, “which is about four hours from London by train.”  
  
“I’m from Ealdor.”  
  
“Oh,” said Arthur. He had never been to Ealdor, but he knew it was a very poor village not too far from London. It was small and dirty, from what he had heard, and absolutely nothing like the wealth of Camelot. “Why come here? It’s a hell of a coincidence that we both went to the same university.”  
  
“I couldn’t live in England any longer,” said Merlin vaguely. “I hope my shift is over in time to enjoy the snow.”  
  
“When are you done?”  
  
“Eight tonight.”  
  
“Me as well,” said Arthur. Merlin met his eyes and held his gaze for several moments; Arthur tried to read his blue eyes, but he had no idea what was going through Merlin’s head. “We should get dinner,” he said and immediately afterwards he was sure some ghost had hijacked his voice and made him say those words.  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
Arthur nodded and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“Why?” asked Arthur, completely surprised. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said no to him.  
  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Merlin. “Are you . . . ? I don’t – what kind of dinner are we talking about? As friends?”  
  
“If you want. Or as something else. . . .”  
  
“As something else,” repeated Merlin. “Right, okay, look, the thing is . . . you’re not really my type. I mean, why on earth do you want to even go to dinner with me? I can imagine how it would go. You would talk about yourself, because you don’t really know how to talk about anything else, and I would ignore that because you’re so bloody good-looking and I’d try to tell myself that your teeth are all crooked, but it wouldn’t keep me from wanting to kiss you and then you’d try to take me home, fuck me, and then we’d never speak again because you would’ve got what you wanted.”  
  
“Do you ever shut up?”  
  
“Not really, no.”  
  
“If I start talking about myself too much, you can tell me to stop and we can talk about something else. And just because you said that, I refuse to kiss you unless you make the first move, so if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. And if we _did_ sleep together, I would keep talking to you – I probably wouldn’t stop.”  
  
Merlin didn’t look as though he believed Arthur.  
  
“I’ll pay,” offered Arthur.  
  
“Oh, no, I can pay for myself.”  
  
“I have no doubt.” Arthur nudged Merlin with his elbow. “It might actually be fun. And if it snows really hard, I’ll let you beat me in a snowball fight, just to show you I’m not a sore loser.”  
  
“Oh, you’re definitely a sore loser, don’t deny it.”  
  
Arthur smiled. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and turned his alarm off. “Time to go back to work.” Arthur stood up and went to the service door.  
  
“All right,” said Merlin from behind him.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“All right, I’ll go to dinner with you.”  
  
Arthur swallowed his smile away and breathed in deeply. He turned and looked down at Merlin. “Brilliant.”  
  
“I’ll meet you in the E.D. then?”  
  
“Er, why don’t you meet me at my house – so I can change out of these scrubs?”  
  
Merlin narrowed his eyes slightly, as though thinking deeply about something, but he conceded and agreed to meet Arthur at his house later. Arthur exchanged numbers with Merlin and sent him a text with his address.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
For the first time in the five months, Arthur had worked at the hospital he left right on time. He went home and quickly showered. Merlin was ringing his doorbell by the time he was tying his shoelaces, and Arthur felt an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
Merlin was standing on the front porch, hands shoved in his pockets. He had changed, now wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt under a faded gray t-shirt. He had on a jacket with frayed pockets and sleeves. Around his neck was a blue scarf, possibly hand-knit, and he looked positively wonderful.   
  
Merlin turned and took in Arthur’s appearance. He cleared his throat before saying, “Hello.”  
  
“Ready?”  
  
Merlin simply nodded. “Where are we going?”  
  
“There’s this place called Café Lily and—”  
  
“It’s Mediterranean. I’ve been there before,” replied Merlin.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It’s fine. It’s good. They’re open really late and it’s already nine o’clock.”  
  
Arthur stepped outside and locked his front door behind him. He walked to his car, a BMW coupe, and held open Merlin’s door for him.  
  
“This isn’t a date,” said Merlin very seriously. “You don’t have to—”  
  
“Just get into the bloody car, will you?”  
  
Merlin pressed his lips together and got into the car. Arthur walked around the back and got behind the wheel. He started the car and backed out of the drive. He yawned as he drove through his neighborhood.  
  
“How long was your shift?” Merlin asked.  
  
“I don’t know,” replied Arthur. “Normally they’re twenty-four hours here. Sometimes thirty-six. Today was twelve, I think. I can’t remember.”  
  
Merlin laughed. It was an easy laugh, deep, but not loud. “This is why it’s better to be a nurse,” he said. “I either work four ten-hour shifts or three thirteen-hour shifts. I’ve done sixteen hours when I needed the overtime, but it’s brutal. After fourteen, I completely stop caring about everything and I’m in a daze.”  
  
Arthur nodded in agreement. “The hospital thinks there’s less margin for error if we work thirty-six hours. Less patient hand-offs from doctor to doctor that way, but I don’t think it’s really wise to make us care for patients when we’re sleep deprived. We’ve got our on-call rooms, but I never seem to get enough sleep in there.”  
  
“You’re a good doctor, though.”  
  
Arthur glanced at Merlin and grinned. “Oh?”  
  
“I’ve heard rumors,” said Merlin, his ears turning red.   
  
When they arrived at the restaurant, they got a table by one of the windows. The restaurant was dim and the lack of light reminded Arthur how tired he truly was. He ordered soda, making sure it was caffeinated, and tried not to blink too many times during dinner. They talked about work, Merlin making fun of some of the attending physicians who were as personable as rocks, and Arthur found himself laughing at all his jokes. Arthur had no idea Merlin was so clever, but as Merlin reached across the table and placed his hand over Arthur’s forearm, Arthur ruined the entire moment. He pulled his arm away and coughed to clear his throat.  
  
Merlin sat back in his chair and studied Arthur. “You’re not out, are you? That’s why you didn’t want to meet in the Emergency Department, you didn’t want anyone to see you.”  
  
Arthur swallowed but didn’t say anything.  
  
“Have you told yourself you’re gay?”  
  
“I’m not gay,” said Arthur quietly.  
  
“You asked me out, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” said Arthur, looking up and meeting Merlin’s gaze. “I just – it feels wrong – to say that word.”  
  
“Gay? It’s just a word. But fine. D’you like men better than women?”  
  
Arthur shrugged.  
  
“Have you been with men before?”  
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious, Merlin? Of course I have. Several.”  
  
“How many women have you been with?”  
  
“Er,” Arthur sniggered. “One, back at college in Camelot. I was seventeen.”  
  
“Liked it well enough that you turned to men, yeah?”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help but grin and shake his head. “No . . . I had already been with a boy the year before. We were on the same football team. I just don’t think it’s anyone else’s business who I’m sleeping with, so I don’t ever talk about it.”  
  
“You mean you keep it a secret.”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “Do your parents know you’re gay?”  
  
“It’s just my mum, and yes, I told her when I was fifteen.”  
  
“ _Fifteen_?”  
  
“I just knew,” said Merlin. “I knew when I was a little kid – or I suspected. There was something different inside me and I couldn’t exactly figure it out, but when I was twelve, my best mate got a girlfriend and I was a complete moron – I brooded and stopped talking to him for ages. We got in a huge fight one day and I kissed him – he pushed me away, of course, and ran out of my house. But a week later we made up and he’s still my best mate, even now. He’s not gay, though.” Merlin shrugged. “And I stopped fancying him quickly thereafter. You know how emotions are when you’re a kid.”  
  
Arthur had no idea what to say. He had spent his teenage years trying to pretend he was the same as everybody else, eager to feel the curves underneath girls’ jumpers, fascinated in the smooth apex of their thighs, but it was all wrong, it had always been wrong, and it was something else entirely he wanted to feel underneath the waistband of a pair of skin-tight jeans.  
  
“My parents want me to get married and have kids. They want grandchildren. Perhaps my sister will do it for them instead.”  
  
“You don’t want kids?”  
  
“I – well, I can’t, can I?”  
  
Merlin leaned closer over the table, keeping his voice low. “You’re fascinating.”  
  
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but fascinating definitely hasn’t been one of them.”  
  
“Let’s get out of here.”  
  
Arthur took his wallet out to pay the check, but Merlin slapped his hand away and took the bill and threw his credit card down, waving the waitress over and handing it to her.  
  
“I’m not completely poor, you know. I make a good salary.”  
  
They left the restaurant, driving in silence as Arthur navigated the streets back to his house. He pulled into the drive, yawning, and parked the car. He got out and walked halfway to his front door before realizing that Merlin wasn’t following him.  
  
“Do you have a shift tomorrow?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Then come on.”  
  
Merlin looked at him and shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
  
“I have this unbelievably expensive bottle of merlot that my father sent me last Christmas, and if I drink the whole thing by myself, I’ll probably end up sending you a string of incoherent text messages now that I’ve got your mobile number.”  
  
Merlin laughed. “Did you just try to make a joke? That’s brilliant. I didn’t know you had any humor at all.”  
  
Arthur thought for a moment he might be offended, but he just shook his head and laughed instead.   
  
“I’ll come in, but I’m not sleeping with you.”  
  
“I wasn’t even going to ask.”  
  
Merlin walked behind Arthur up the front steps of his porch and through the front door of his house. Arthur showed him into the living room and went to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine and two glasses. Merlin sat on the sofa, leaning his head back against the cushion. Arthur settled into the armchair and sat the glasses and bottle on the table in front of him. He poured the wine and handed Merlin a glass.  
  
“You’ve got nice taste for an intern. I know for a fact you don’t make much money; interns never do.”  
  
“My uncle left me quite a bit of inheritance in his will and my parents set up a savings account for me that I now have full control of. My family has a lot of money.”  
  
“Must be nice.”  
  
The bitter tone of Merlin’s voice didn’t go unmissed by Arthur. “So,” said Arthur, “why a nurse?”  
  
“My mum’s a nurse back in Ealdor. Doesn’t make much money at it these days, bad economy in the town. Thought of being a doctor, but I didn’t want the extra responsibility or schooling. Besides, everyone thinks doctors are complete prats.”  
  
“Do they?”  
  
Merlin nodded and took a long drink from his wine glass. “Remember how you spoke to Amelia Adams? Right. _Terrible_ prats.”  
  
“Do you have a boyfriend?”  
  
“No,” answered Merlin, and Arthur didn’t miss the smile that pulled on the corners of his mouth. “Where’d you get that ring?”  
  
Arthur looked down at his hand. On his index finger he always wore a white-gold band with an intricate design engraved around it. Since it was always there, he never paid much mind to it. “My father gave this to me, actually. It was my great-grandfather’s. It’s a little thick for my style, but I’ve always worn it.”  
  
“Why? It doesn’t look like you.”  
  
“I don’t rightly know. I suppose because I got it when I was fourteen and I was just always _expected_ to wear it and now it’s habit. I don’t know, I kind of like it, I suppose. It’s nice having a history, I suppose.”  
  
“Just as long as your _history_ doesn’t control your future.”  
  
“And what controls your future?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I do, for the most part; the rest I leave up to destiny.”  
  
“Destiny? Isn’t that the opposite of controlling your own future?”  
  
“Sort of. I controlled applying to New York for nursing school and controlled posting at Candler Memorial for a job. You controlled applying to New York for med school and to ranking Candler number one for your internship. But the lines in between could have been destiny, telling us we’re meant to be mates.”  
  
Arthur drank his entire wine glass in one long gulp. He leaned forward and poured himself another glass.  
  
“That’s fascinating,” said Arthur, meaning it.  
  
“Are you trying to get drunk?”  
  
“No, but if it happens, it happens.”  
  
“Are you happy?”  
  
Arthur rubbed a hand over his face and sat back in his chair. He took in a deep breath and let it slowly out, thinking. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.   
  
“Why? You should know if you’re happy or not. D’you not like being a doctor?”  
  
“I do,” answered Arthur honestly. “My father’s a doctor. My grandfather was a doctor . . . my great-grandfather . . . and so on, as far back as anyone could trace, but I didn’t do it for them. I actually wanted to be one. My parents want me to go back to Camelot, take over my father’s practice, but I – I don’t want to. I went to London for university, but London was still too close to them, so I came all the way here. I like it here. I got tired of New York, so I came further south, but I just – I don’t feel I belong anywhere.  
  
“This house is too big for me and it’s so empty all the time. Perhaps I should get a dog, but then I’d have to find someone to walk it when I’m on-call for thirty-six hours.” Arthur shrugged. “I haven’t found something to live for yet, I guess. Haven’t found that purpose.”  
  
“Saving lives hasn’t given you a purpose?”  
  
“I don’t save lives,” said Arthur. “Saving them implies their lives are suddenly better because of me.”  
  
“Well, being alive is better than being dead.”  
  
“Have you seen some of our patients? Drug addicts and alcoholics? Complete arses who beat the shit out of their wives? I don’t _save_ them, I just keep them from dying, and sometimes when I can’t even do that, I just make the dying less painful. Or try to anyway.”  
  
“I’m happy,” said Merlin. “I like my job and my life. I have several mates that I play pool with down at Mark Twain’s Billiard Room, and sometimes I take trips with Gwen back to New York, where all her family lives. I liked it there. I can’t really complain about anything.”  
  
“Nothing at all?”  
  
Merlin smirked. “Well, there’s this one doctor at work who’s a complete arse, but he’s getting a bit better.”  
  
Arthur grinned and felt his face heat up, but he wasn’t sure if it was from Merlin or the wine.  
  
Merlin stood and sat his wine glass down on the coffee table. “You didn’t give me the tour of your house.”  
  
“Oh. Well, this is the living room and—”  
  
“What’s upstairs?”  
  
Arthur looked intently at Merlin’s eyes, trying to read what was behind them. “I’ve a room full of free weights, an empty room that I don’t know what to do with, and my bedroom.”  
  
“Let’s see that one then.” Merlin walked over to the stairs and Arthur followed. “Let me see if I can guess. King-sized bed and Egyptian cotton sheets?”  
  
Arthur laughed. “No, it’s fucking cold out, so I have really warm flannel ones, but yes to it being king-sized.”  
  
“Brilliant. I’m known to hog all the covers.”  
  
Arthur felt his heart beat in the middle of his throat and he walked up the staircase to the first floor of his house. His bedroom was at the end of the hallway, and he flipped on the light switch as he walked inside. Merlin walked past him and looked around the space. His walls were bare, his bed large and expensive, made with a heavy wood. He had two bedside tables, one with an alarm clock, the other with a lamp. There were French doors on one wall that held his closet and a single door on the opposite wall where his bathroom was. It was a very boring room, very little life.  
  
“It’s _exactly_ how I thought it would be,” said Merlin.  
  
“What? You’re not serious? There’s nothing in here.”  
  
Merlin turned around and looked at Arthur. “I know. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”  
  
“Are you—”  
  
“Shut up, Arthur,” said Merlin, crossing the room and standing in front of Arthur, staring at him, as though daring him to make a move. His eyes looked down at Arthur’s mouth and he leaned forward, carefully pressing his lips against Arthur’s.  
  
Arthur held his breath, feeling Merlin’s mouth on his, his hands limp by his sides. Merlin pulled away and looked at Arthur, a puzzled expression on his face.  
  
“Oh, no,” said Arthur, “we can absolutely do better than that.”  
  
He reached towards Merlin, curling his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck, and pulled him close, crashing their mouths together, pushing his body against Merlin’s, chest to chest, Merlin’s hip digging into his side. Merlin tasted of wine, cigarettes, and promise.  
  
They pressed themselves together, in the middle of Arthur’s room, Merlin’s hands working at the buttons of Arthur’s shirt and then pushing it off of his shoulders. His hands were cold against Arthur’s bare skin but the touch was like electricity, and suddenly Arthur felt like battery acid was pumping through his veins and he pushed Merlin backwards on his bed. He climbed on top of him, coherent enough to rest his weight on his elbows, and pushed apart Merlin’s legs with his knee, inserting his thigh between Merlin’s.  
  
His fingers worked on the clasp of Merlin’s belt as he mouthed against Merlin’s jaw, traced Merlin’s ear with his tongue, and sucked lightly on his neck.  
  
“Did you leave a love-bite?”  
  
“Maybe,” Arthur breathed into Merlin’s neck. He sat up and pulled Merlin’s jeans off, only to have them catch on his shoes. “Ah, that’s problematic.” He moved down Merlin’s body and untied his trainers, pulled them of his feet, and removed his socks. Then he removed his jeans and kissed Merlin’s ankle, and Merlin sat up and took off his own shirt. Propped back on his elbows, watching Arthur, was Merlin, expanse of fair-skin and dark hair that ran up his legs to his thighs, settling between his legs. Arthur kissed his way back up Merlin’s leg, the side of his cock, and to his chest.  
  
“I’d really like to see you naked,” said Merlin.  
  
Arthur nodded and quickly stood, toeing out of his shoes and socks, pulling off his trousers. Merlin sat up on his knees and kissed Arthur’s mouth, running his hand between their bodies until it curled around Arthur’s cock. He stroked, slowly, and Arthur forgot to breathe. And when his own hand found Merlin, something tugged at his stomach, made his knees falter, but luckily Merlin pulled him down on the bed.  
  
His body was sharp and angular, wiry and lithe, nothing like any of the other men he’d been with before. It was uncharted territory, something Arthur didn’t know, and he mapped out his body with his lips. Small kisses to each angle, where his neck met his shoulder, his elbows, his hips, his knees. Then kisses to his cock, thin but long in front of him, hard, pulsing, and his mouth opened to take him in. Merlin felt hot against his tongue, but he fit, like the perfect cock for Arthur’s mouth, but that was absurd; Arthur didn’t believe in destiny like Merlin, so he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on what he was doing, committing the sounds Merlin made to memory.  
  
Merlin’s fingers tugged on Arthur’s hair and he pulled away and gazed at Merlin who looked completely wrecked.  
  
“Stop – or – going to come.”   
  
Quickly, Merlin sat up and pushed Arthur over until he was on his back. It was unexpected and Arthur landed with a slight _oof_ , but he liked the way Merlin looked above him, bending down to kiss him.  
  
“Do you have a—?”  
  
Arthur reached over to his bedside table and fumbled to open the drawer. He felt around for the box, which would have been an easy find if he could see, but Merlin had begun kissing him again and Arthur couldn’t think of a good reason to stop. His fingers found it and he dropped the box next to him on the bed.  
  
Merlin pulled away, glanced at the box, and then back at Arthur with an absolutely _filthy_ grin on his face. He leaned over towards the open drawer, reached in, and found the bottle of lubricant that Arthur had stashed away. It was a stolen bottle, one that one of his one-night stands had left behind, but Arthur would never have gone into a drug store and purchased it himself so he used it sparingly.  
  
Arthur reached for the box and the bottle, but Merlin shooed his hands away. He slid his hand down until he grasped Arthur again. Then he stroked those long, easy strokes again, making Arthur impossibly harder. He had been so focused on the feel of Merlin’s hand that he completely missed Merlin grabbing a condom and opening it until Merlin was putting it on him. He lightly slicked his fingers and continued stroking Arthur.  
  
Everything about Merlin was so uncharted that Arthur didn’t know what to expect next. Merlin kissed him again before completely moving off and settling next to him – on his hands and knees. Something primal stirred in Arthur’s stomach, pooling there, between his thighs. He draped himself over Merlin, chest to back, found him, opened him, worked him with his fingers, slick from the bottle.   
  
Then. He slid inside. To an impossible space. Tight and warm and _Merlin_. And Arthur gasped at the feel of this, biting at Merlin’s shoulders, feeling the other man push back as he pushed forward. He couldn’t go slowly, he could only go fast, pushing and slamming, his teeth dragging along Merlin’s back. Underneath him, Merlin made noises, moans and groans, whispers of “ _more . . . more_ ,” a soundtrack to their lovemaking.  
  
They were sweaty, their bodies hot. Arthur took hold of Merlin and began to jerk him off, his rhythm slightly unsteady, but it seemed to work, for Merlin collapsed to his elbows, gasping out _Arthur_ as he came, dirtying up the sheets. Arthur wasn’t far behind, and he felt his orgasm pull from his body as he came, pressed against Merlin’s back.  
  
There was an afterwards, where they were both quiet, lying next to one another, still back to front, their breaths slowing. Arthur bridged the gap first, turning closer to Merlin, allowing his arms to curl around him, his mouth pressing kisses to his exposed skin.  
  
“You felt brilliant,” said Arthur, “when I was inside you.”  
  
“Mmm,” hummed Merlin. His fingers came to rest against Arthur’s hand and he wiggled against Arthur, as though trying to find his place inside Arthur’s arms. And then they both slept.  
  
Arthur woke a little later, stirring awake when he felt Merlin move. He opened his eyes and blinked against the dark. A figure was in front of him, moving around, bending down and collecting things from the floor.  
  
“What are you doing?” asked Arthur, his voice rough from sleep and sex.  
  
“Oh!” squeaked Merlin, clearly surprised at hearing Arthur. “I was getting dressed to go home. I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because it’s late and you were fast asleep.”  
  
“I meant, why are you leaving?”  
  
“Oh. Because it’s time to go,” said Merlin, his voice soft and low.  
  
Arthur sat up in bed and blinked several times, his eyes beginning to adjust to the dark. He could see Merlin better now and felt his heart creep back up to beat in his throat. “Don’t be stupid,” muttered Arthur. “Stay here.”  
  
Merlin looked as if he was considering, his body vibrating with hesitation. “No, I shouldn’t. Let’s call this what it was. If I spend the night, then it won’t be so casual and it needs to stay that way.”  
  
“Casual? I’m not looking for a fuck mate,” snapped Arthur.  
  
“And I’m not looking to be anyone’s secret,” whispered Merlin. “I’m not – I don’t – I’m worth more than that.”  
  
“Fucking _come here_ ,” said Arthur, his voice full of command. Merlin’s hands were full of jeans and shirts, but he took a few steps closer to Arthur’s side of the bed. “Do you not want to stay?”  
  
Merlin shrugged, looking defeated.  
  
“Don’t give up on this before it’s even started. There’s something here, isn’t there?”  
  
“I don’t,” began Merlin, but stopped. “Perhaps.” He shook his head. “But in the entire hospital, I’m the only one who knows you have sex with other men and . . . I don’t want to be the only person who knows that. I don’t keep it a secret that I’m gay, and you shouldn’t either.” Merlin began to get dressed; Arthur just watched him. When he was done, he took Arthur’s face in his hands and smiled as he kissed him, slipping his tongue in between Arthur’s lips. “I’ll see you at hospital, yeah?”  
  
Arthur was quiet as Merlin left. After he was gone, he had a hard time laying back down in bed and going back to sleep.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**24 December**   
  
Merlin woke up around midday, curled around Arthur. Their hospital schedules were so vastly different that sometimes they would go weeks without waking up together, despite sharing the same bed at night. It was mornings like these that Merlin would pretend to be asleep until Arthur stirred. His head was against the crook of Arthur’s shoulder, his hiding place, his shelter. Arthur’s arms were around him, as though holding him into place.  
  
He heard some noises downstairs and Merlin stirred, slipping out of his old bed as quietly as possible. Grabbing his hooded sweatshirt from his suitcase, Merlin let himself out of the room and closed the door behind him. It had been so long since he’d been home that he forgot that the fifth stair squeaked, and he walked on it with full weight.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
He couldn’t help but grin at the sound of her voice. She met him at the bottom of the stairs and hugged him tightly. She was much shorter than him, but just as thin, and he felt he might crush her with the intensity of his hug.  
  
“I missed you!” he said.  
  
His mother pulled away and took Merlin’s face in her hands. “You look good,” she said. “Not as skinny. Does Arthur make you eat?”  
  
“I always eat, Mum,” grumbled Merlin.  
  
“I have water boiling for tea. Do you want some?”  
  
Merlin nodded and followed his mother into the kitchen. The room was small, like the rest of the house, and had a square table with four chairs. Merlin watched his mother pull two mugs down from inside a cabinet. For the first time, he noticed gray in her hair. She looked more tired, older, and the smile that usually pulled at her eyes seemed absent. Guilt settled into his stomach and he knew she hadn’t been happy since he moved away. She said she understood, but Merlin wondered if she didn’t resent him just a little for leaving her all alone in Ealdor.  
  
“Tell me everything,” she said.   
  
“I talk to you every Sunday,” said Merlin. “There isn’t anything you don’t know.”  
  
“How was the plane ride?” She sat down the mugs with the tea bags on the table and went back to the stove to retrieve the teapot, which had started to whistle.  
  
“Long,” answered Merlin. “Will picked us up from the airport right on time, though. I can’t wait to meet Effy, and I haven’t seen Michelle since I left.”  
  
“That’s because you haven’t been home since you left.”  
  
“Mum,” said Merlin with a warning tone. “You know why I didn’t come back. It’s too hard.” Merlin watched her pour the water into his cup, the steam curling into the air and disappearing. “Do you need helping cooking dinner for tomorrow? Will is still coming, yeah?”  
  
“They’ll be here around midday, I think, but you needn’t help me cook. You’re a disaster in the kitchen.”  
  
“I am not,” mumbled Merlin, sipping his tea.  
  
“You are,” said a voice from the doorway.  
  
Merlin looked up quickly and saw Arthur, hair wet, but wearing tailor-cut jeans and a gray button-down shirt. He felt his face heat up as he stared; sometimes Arthur looked like a photograph, all perfect lines, sharp jaw, bright eyes, and it unnerved Merlin, made him think just how out of his league Arthur was.  
  
“Oh!” cried Merlin’s mum, setting down her mug of tea and throwing her arms around Arthur in an elaborate hug. “I’m so glad to meet you!”  
  
“Mum, are you crying?”  
  
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Arthur, pulling out of the hug. “Thanks for inviting me.”  
  
“I’m just so glad you both came! I haven’t seen Merlin in so long. Thank you for bringing him home.”  
  
“ _Mum_ ,” grumbled Merlin. “Arthur didn’t bring me home.”  
  
“I can’t wait to get to know you,” gushed Hunith. “I want you to tell me everything about yourself. Merlin tells me some, but he always leaves out the good bits, have you ever noticed?”  
  
Arthur laughed an easy laugh. “Right, sometimes he forgets the most important detail and at the end of his story, he just stares at you, wondering why you don’t understand him.”  
  
“Yes! That’s my Merlin!”  
  
Arthur looked at Merlin and he could only describe the look in Arthur’s eyes as fond. Merlin quickly looked back down at his tea, trying not to blush.  
  
“Would you like to come to town with me? I need to buy some things for Christmas dinner, and I’m sure Merlin would like to show you around the village where he grew up.”  
  
Arthur searched for Merlin’s eyes, but Merlin kept his gaze on his tea. “I don’t know so much about that,” he said. “I don’t really need to go into—”  
  
“Merlin,” said his mother, turning to him, “go get dressed and we’ll go into the village.”  
  
“Is no one listening to me?” he asked.  
  
“Merlin told me of this shop near the public school—”  
  
“England’s best bread,” cut-in Hunith. “Yes. Truly remarkable.” She turned and looked at Merlin. “You can’t go to town in pajamas.”  
  
Merlin shook his head. “I really don’t want to go into town.”  
  
Arthur looked at him curiously and Merlin finally met his gaze. “Why?”  
  
“It’s just – it’s – I don’t.” He stopped and sighed. “Fine.” Merlin left the kitchen, just as he heard his mother inviting Arthur to sit at the table with her. He dressed slowly and carefully, concentrating on his clothes so he wouldn’t have to think about what going into town might mean. He sat on the edge of his old bed, breathing in deeply and thinking, for once, that coming home for Christmas might have been a mistake.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**Three years ago**  
  
Arthur didn’t avoid Merlin after their night together, but he didn’t pursue him either. He got an odd ache in his stomach whenever he spotted Merlin around the hospital, which wasn’t too often since Merlin worked in ICU and Arthur in Emergency. Arthur still went to the loading dock in the back to smoke with Lance and sometimes Merlin was there. Merlin was always friendly, said hello, but he was frequently there with Gwen, and Arthur never asked to speak with him alone.  
  
December only brought on more cold, more threats of snow and ice. Against his better judgment, Arthur took up smoking. Partly he blamed Lance for continuously dragging him outside on their meal breaks, and he partly blamed Merlin for giving him a reason to go out on the loading dock in the first place. He was on the last four hours of a twenty-four shift and was ready to go home and fall into bed and sleep for the next two days. The loading dock was cold, and the cigarette warm in his mouth, but the coat he wore didn’t take the chill out of his bones.  
  
When the service door opened, Arthur turned and watched Merlin walk outside and for the first time, he was alone. Merlin nodded a hello, lit his own cigarette, and let it rest between his lips as he pulled a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket.  
  
“You’re here late,” said Arthur.  
  
“A few nurses were sacked so I’ve been picking up some extra shifts. The overtime is rather nice, honestly.”  
  
“Sacked? Why?”  
  
“Prescription drug problem. It’s surprisingly common. How’ve you been?”  
  
“Good,” said Arthur. He watched Merlin smoke, watched the way he bounced from foot to foot as he tried to keep his body warm. “Actually, not all that good.”  
  
Merlin looked over at him and stopped bouncing as Arthur took a few steps closer, closing the gap between them. He stood a little straighter, rolling his shoulders back, as though readying himself for the defensive.  
  
“I don’t like how things ended – you know – last time.”  
  
“Oh,” said Merlin.   
  
“We should do it again.”  
  
“I don’t really have casual sex. It was great, don’t get me wrong, but it was just that once and I—”  
  
“I meant we should do dinner again.”  
  
“Oh.” Merlin paused. “Why?”  
  
“Why not? I see you around the hospital and I _look_ at you, and I’ve no earthly idea how to even do this. It’s mad.” Arthur took in a deep breath. “I’ve never really had anyone reject me before.”  
  
“Do you want me because you can’t have me?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “There’s something about you. . . .”  
  
“It’s my ears. Men go wild over my ears.”  
  
Arthur laughed and reached out to trace the outline of Merlin’s left ear. “I like your ears,” he said, dropping his hand. “What do you say?” Arthur flicked his half-finished cigarette away, his arms hanging limply by his side.  
  
“I don’t know,” answered Merlin.  
  
“If you tell me you don’t feel it, I’ll leave you alone.” Arthur looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back at Merlin. He felt oddly shy, as though he had never asked a man out before. He felt a tug at his heart and stomach – something he felt every time he saw Merlin.  
  
Merlin let out a loud breath. “I feel it.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I do.”  
  
Arthur took hold of Merlin’s coat and pulled him closer, resting his forehead against Merlin’s. “I don’t understand it,” he whispered. “But I have to see where this goes.”  
  
“People will know,” said Merlin. “They’ll find out. Everyone knows I’m gay. I don’t hide it. We can’t pretend we’re mates forever.”  
  
Arthur let go of Merlin and pulled away. “I don’t see why it’s anyone’s business what kind of mates we are, but I promise I’ll do my best not to pretend. . . .”  
  
“This is absolutely against my better judgment,” said Merlin, “I just want you to understand that.”  
  
“When are you free?”  
  
“I work the next six days,” said Merlin, “sixteen hour shifts each. I may die.”  
  
“I leave in four days. I’m going back to Camelot for Christmas.” Arthur laughed to himself. “I don’t even know why. I haven’t been home for a Christmas in five years. I don’t know why I’m starting now.”  
  
“I haven’t been home since I was seventeen. My mum’s been out here twice in the last seven years, but I’ve stayed here.”  
  
“I’ve been home to visit, but just not on Christmas. Staying here has always been better for me – my parents ruin holidays and even though it’s lonely here, it's far less than when I have to go home.”  
  
Merlin laughed, seeming to understand Arthur’s meaning.  
  
“You work on Christmas?”  
  
Merlin shook his head. “That’ll be my only day off for the next two weeks. I wish I was, though. It’ll be depressing being at my flat all by myself.”  
  
“What will you do?”  
  
“Sit on my sofa with my laptop, watch the telly, and get pissed. Not necessarily in that order.”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry. I’ll be just as miserable, I’m sure. I get back on the twenty-seventh.”  
  
“Call me when you’re back,” said Merlin, “and we’ll plan something.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I will.”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Arthur fell asleep on the plane ride to London. When he was in the airport, he had no idea what time it was and was proud of himself for even figuring out where baggage claim was. He was so tired and out of sorts. The next four days with his family was going to be draining and probably leave him more exhausted than any of his thirty-six hour shifts at the hospital ever had.  
  
Morgana picked him up from the airport and the first thing she showed him was her brand new engagement ring, an early Christmas present from Leon.   
  
“Mum and Dad don’t know yet,” she said with a giggle. “I think I’ll tell them after Christmas, though. Dad will be revolting, and I don’t want to ruin Christmas.”  
  
The airport was small and, despite being called Camelot International, it was almost an hour’s drive back to their parents’ house. Arthur took a three-hour nap when he arrived. He shouldn’t have been tired after sleeping so long on the plane, but he didn’t want to be home and could feel the pressure suffocating him, and he hadn’t even seen his parents yet.   
  
It was Christmas Eve and the tradition was to have dinner at Dr. Pennington’s house. Every year Ewan Pennington had a Christmas party for all the doctors at Camelot Hospital, and Arthur couldn’t remember a time when his parents hadn’t gone. He stuck close to Morgana, drinking glass after glass of cabernet to numb the annoyance of having to be at the party, and he was about to have the bartender pour him another glass when he spotted his father waving him over from across the room.  
  
Arthur waited until his glass was full before weaving in and out of the crowd of people in Pennington’s ballroom. He attempted to smile at his father, mother, and Dr. Pennington, but it came out more as a grimace.  
  
“Arthur, I’m so glad you could come!” cried Pennington. He was a monster of a man, all height and weight, with fat fingers and an even fatter wallet. His wife, who was lithe and short, stood by his side, almost hidden by her husband.  
  
“You look wonderful,” said Mrs. Pennington.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“How’s being a doctor treating you?” she asked. “I asked your mother, but she said you don’t speak of it often.”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t see the point in boring her. She’s listened to my father drone on about patients for the last thirty years, she doesn’t need to hear it from me as well.”  
  
Morgana came sweeping over, linking her arm through her brother’s. “Hello, Dr. Pennington, Mrs. Pennington. You should know that my brother is very secretive. He doesn’t much talk about his work. He’ll talk your ear off about rugby, though, if you give him the chance.”  
  
Uther snorted; he hated rugby and thought real men played football.  
  
Mrs. Pennington smiled fondly. “Have you met any nice girls in New York?”  
  
“I’m no longer living in New York,” said Arthur, “and no, I haven’t met any girls.”  
  
“We try to tell him that it’s time he settles down,” said Uther, “but he prefers to live the life of a bachelor.”  
  
“It makes me worry so,” said Ygraine. “You know how a wife helps her husband, and Arthur’s job keeps him so busy—”  
  
“You both speak as though I _want_ to get married but I am a complete disaster with women,” snapped Arthur. “But I don’t want to get married. I will never get married.”  
  
“You’re so good-looking and you’re a doctor,” said Mrs. Pennington. “You’ll have no trouble finding the right girl when you’re ready. Maybe you already have!”  
  
Arthur shook his head but said nothing.  
  
“There’s no one you want to date?” asked Ygraine.   
  
Arthur chose his words carefully. “There’s no woman I want to date,” he replied. “I’ve been home for less than ten hours and already you want to marry me off. Can’t you just enjoy that I’m home and leave it at that? This is why I hate coming home – we always have to talk about getting married and me providing you with grandchildren. It’s not what I want now and I can’t imagine ever wanting it.”  
  
“You need to stop fantasizing about America and come on home,” said Uther. “I will want to retire in another few years, and I want to make sure Camelot is left in good medical hands.”  
  
“You’re not the only doctor in the city,” said Arthur. He looked over at Dr. Pennington. “Were there many prospective doctors this past year?”  
  
“Quite,” replied Dr. Pennington. “In fact, we have one here now as a boarder.”  
  
“Perhaps she would like to be a cardiologist and could take over the Pendragon—”  
  
“ _Arthur_ ,” snarled Ygraine, her voice full of warning.  
  
Morgana’s hand enclosed Arthur’s wrist, and he turned to look at his little sister. She smiled at him, the smile that read _I am here to rescue you_.  
  
“We’re going to Bailey’s,” she said, looking around at her parents and the Penningtons.  
  
“Bailey’s?” repeated Dr. Pennington.   
  
“It’s a lovely little pub,” answered Morgana. “We always go there whenever Arthur is home, just the two of us. I need time with my big brother. I miss him when he’s gone.” She turned to their father. “We’ll be home late, and tomorrow is Christmas and I don’t want it ruined by you talking to Arthur about getting married.”  
  
“If your brother would just _listen_ —”  
  
Morgana put her hand up, silencing Uther. “If you want to talk about marriage, you can yell at me about mine. Leon proposed, and I accepted. We’ve been dating for over five years, so we don’t plan on a long engagement..a summer wedding, perhaps. Let’s go, Arthur.”  
  
They left Uther sputtering obscenities as they practically raced out of the Penningtons' ballroom. Morgana pulled her car keys out of her tiny purse and laughed all the way to her car, which she had parked down the street. They laughed the entire way to Bailey’s.  
  
Arthur bought them both glasses of cabernet since that was what they had been drinking at the party.  
  
“Arthur,” began Morgana, her finger circling the rim of her glass, “why do you fight with Mum and Dad so much about getting married? You’re an _ocean_ away. You could make a girl up and they’d never know the difference.”  
  
“I think lying to them would grow tiresome.”  
  
Morgana nodded, understanding. “I lied to them for ages about Leon. They never understood. You met him last summer when you were here.” Morgana laughed. “No, wait, that was _two_ summers ago. I wish you’d come home more often.”  
  
“I can’t stand fighting with Mum and Dad. If it’s not about getting married, then it’s about moving home and taking over Dad’s practice. I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to go to boarding school, I wanted to stay home with you, but I kept my mouth shut and went. I wanted to play rugby, but football was the athletics _he_ thought I should participate in, so I played football instead. He was the one who wanted me to date Vivian because her parents were members of the board at the hospital and she was wealthy and well-bred...the perfect Camelot wife. And he always said I should take some time to experience London, just like him. So I did. I did all of it, just for him, to please him, but now I live my life for me. He’s so overbearing I cannot even be on the same continent as him.”  
  
“Mum despairs of America.”  
  
“Mum is full of dramatics. It’s the actress in her from university, before she married Dad.” Arthur shook his head. “America has been good to me.”  
  
Morgana smiled. “I’m so glad. You’re such a good brother. You always wanted to protect me.”  
  
“Protect you from our father,” said Arthur quietly. “Morgana, remember when we were little and we used to tell secrets? They were all completely made-up.”  
  
“Yes! I remember! We were so stupid. Dad was _always_ at the fucking hospital and we would make-up secrets and then try to make each other reveal the secrets to Dad. He’d get furious, but it was usually the most attention we ever got from him growing up.”  
  
“Want to play the game again?”  
  
“Wow, this brings back memories. You go first.”  
  
Arthur took a slow sip of his wine and then a deep intake of breath. “I lied about not dating anybody. There is someone back home who I’ve been trying to start things up with for ages, and I think I may actually have a chance now.”  
  
“That isn’t a made-up secret is it?”  
  
Arthur shook his head.  
  
“What’s her name?”  
  
“His name is Merlin.”  
  
Morgana stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. “So that bloke who used to come to your flat all the time in university? David? Was he . . . ?”  
  
“He was someone I was involved with, yes.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re twenty-six years old, you must’ve known for a while.”  
  
“For ten years or more,” revealed Arthur, “but I don’t think I was ready to admit it to myself until recently.”  
  
Morgana frowned and actually looked a little hurt. “I’m not stupid. You know that. You could have talked to me about all this before. You know I would’ve been on your side. I hate our dad.”  
  
“You do not hate him.”  
  
Morgana laughed and Arthur was surprised at how genuine it sounded. “I do hate him. I first started hating him when I turned eight, and he missed my birthday.”  
  
Arthur sat back in the booth, trying to draw forth the memories of his childhood. Some had faded, but most were purposefully forgotten. “I remember. We celebrated with our nanny, the only one who seemed to remember our birthdays. Even when he came back from his business trip, he didn’t bring presents.”  
  
“Or wish me happy birthday.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Wow, I had forgotten about that for so long. What trip was it?”  
  
“A lecture, I think, on a new heart surgery. Do you remember what happened when you turned thirteen?”  
  
“He sent me to boarding school.”  
  
“And me to boarding school.”  
  
“And separated us.”  
  
“Yes,” breathed Morgana. “We hadn’t been separated a single night in our entire lives, and he sent us to different boarding schools.”  
  
“You were expelled.”  
  
“I hated it.”  
  
“You were only ten.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You were expelled from three schools.”  
  
Morgana smiled. “I know. I did it on purpose. I didn’t want to go to boarding school. I didn’t like being away from home, which is ridiculous when you think about how ‘home’ consisted of us and a nanny, and you were at boarding school all the time.”  
  
“I came home every summer.” Arthur looked at his hands which were resting in his lap. “We spent three Christmases apart.”  
  
“I remember,” whispered Morgana. “When I was ten.”  
  
“And eleven.”  
  
“And thirteen.” Morgana shook her head. “Dad had business on Christmas and wouldn’t let us go home to spend the holiday together. Mum went with him on his business trip, of course, but didn’t even care to allow her children to spend the holiday together.”  
  
“Unbelievable.”  
  
“That’s why I first started hating him. And Mum, too, because she never stood up to him. She allows him to be a tyrant. Remember my car accident? When I was seventeen? When I was in hospital for two weeks, he came to see me every day and even spent the night the first week. Can you believe it? It was the first time I actually felt as though he cared about me. But then . . . once I was better, he didn’t call for a month—”  
  
“And you stayed at my flat until your knee fully healed.”  
  
“Which is where I first met David.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“When will you tell Mum and Dad?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.”  
  
“I’ll keep quiet as long as I can,” said Morgana, “but you need to tell them. Dad may have a massive coronary, but Mum will likely be all right.”  
  
“Thanks, Morgana. I mean it.”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
[Part Three](http://this-is-kelly.livejournal.com/347310.html#cutid1)

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he got so thoroughly pissed. He woke up late on Christmas morning, holding his head and cursing his sister for taking him to Bailey’s. He made it through the opening of presents and dinner a few hours later without incident – mostly because he ignored any baiting from his parents. Their focus was mostly on Morgana and how she was about to ruin her life by marrying Leon. Arthur made a mental note to thank her for taking him out of the running for Most Disappointing Child of the Century.  
  
Normally after dinner they all watched various Christmas films while drinking expensive red wine and eating Christmas cake. Arthur claimed to still have a headache from the night before and excused himself, having had his fill of red wine and anything to do with Christmas. He went upstairs to his bedroom and changed into pajamas. He’d brought his computer with him on the trip, and took it out as he got into bed. It quickly powered on and he opened up his email. All hospital staff was listed in a database with their department and email address. Arthur found Merlin’s and began to type out an email.  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 20:32  
**Subject:** Happy Christmas  
  
_Merlin:  
Hope you’re enjoying Christmas whilst sitting on your sofa. I can imagine you drinking beer and eating pizza. How far off am I?  
Happy Christmas,  
Arthur_  
  
~  
  
It was only a few minutes before the postage stamp at the bottom of his screen began to bounce. Arthur opened his new email with a forced calm.  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 20:42  
**Subject:** Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_arthur –  
i have beer how u’d know? but no pizza. i made macaroni and cheese instead. stop making that face i know u’re making. what time is it there, like midnight?  
merlin m. emrys_  
  
~  
Arthur shook his head. He was not surprised at Merlin’s lack of capital letters, nor the fact that he signed his email with is full name. It made Arthur smile and he wished he was home, if only to meet Merlin at the coffeehouse near their hospital for tea to warm them up.  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 20:50  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_What does the “M” stand for in Merlin M. Emyrs? You’re nothing but M’s. I did not make a face at the macaroni and cheese, although I thought only small children ate that. My experience with macaroni and cheese is limited to the cardboard-tasting monstrosity that’s served in the hospital cafeteria. It’s also not midnight; it’s eight o’clock. You’re from England yourself, shouldn’t you know a bit more about the time zone differences?_  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 21:04  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_arthur - i haven’t been back to england since i first left, didn’t i tell u that? i never have any idea what time it is in the motherland. all i know is that every sunday at ten in the morning i call my mum and she’s in the middle of cooking dinner for herself. of course she goes to work at 4 in the morning, so dinnertime for her probably isn’t the same as it is for everybody else. why are u emailing me instead of spending christmas with ur family?  
  
ps the m is a secret. we’ll see if u stick around long enough to find out.  
_  
~  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 21:20  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_Merlin Marcus Emrys:  
I got rather sloshed last night with my little sister and have had a horrible headache all day long. My parents are insufferable and this is the first time I’ve come home in two years. I don’t plan on coming back until Morgana gets married. She just informed my parents she’s engaged to a member of the Camelot Police and my father could not be angrier. It’s nice to have their focus off of me for a change, but I still don’t want to have to listen to them as they yell at Morgana about how she’s throwing away her life. So I decided to take my headache upstairs and see how your Christmas was going. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. _  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 21:29  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
_  
u flatter me and u don’t even mean to. i’m sorry ur parents are rotten. my christmas has been rather pathetic. but the alcohol helps to numb everything. i can’t really stop thinking about u either. but i didn’t want to tell u that because u’re egoistical enough for the both of us and i’m sure u’re feeling rather smug right about now.  
  
ps it’s not marcus  
_  
~  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 21:40  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_Merlin Mitchell Emrys:  
I wasn’t feeling smug at all. It felt nice reading those words. I wish I could hear you say them, but my mobile never works over here. I’m looking forward to seeing you again when I get home. England isn’t “home” for me anymore and I always feel like such a stranger here. When is your next day off? _  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 21:45  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_5 january. then i have 5 days off in a row but i'll probably end up sleeping the first 4 because this shit at the hospital is about to kill me. 16 hr days is madness. i don’t know how much longer i can keep it up. i suppose i’ll feel differently once i’ve seen my paycheck.  
  
it's not mitchell. or michael or michel or michelangelo or maurice or any other name u’ll guess. nice try. _  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 22:01  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_Merlin Mickey Emrys:  
5 January is a long way off. When will I get to see you again? _  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 22:04  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_mickey? seriously?  
  
i don’t know. when do u want to see me again? _  
  
~  
  
**To:** “Merlin Emrys” < m.emrys@memorialhosp.com >  
**From:** “Arthur Pendragon” < a.pendragon@memorialhosp.com >  
**Sent:** 25 December 2006, 22:07  
**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Happy Christmas  
  
_Merlin Manuel Emrys:  
Every chance I get. _  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**24 December**  
  
Merlin stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in jeans and a jumper. He still didn’t want to go into town, but he had gotten dressed anyway and readied himself to go appease his mother. At first he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, breathing in calculated breaths, but then he silenced himself and eavesdropped on his mum and Arthur talking in the kitchen, their voices low.  
  
“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Hunith. “I know we’ve spoken on the phone before, but it’s so different than seeing you in person.”  
  
“I’m glad to have come,” replied Arthur. “I can’t believe Merlin hasn’t been back home since he was seventeen. I don’t know why.”  
  
“Didn’t Merlin ever tell you why he doesn’t come home?”  
  
“No. He always avoids the question.”  
  
Merlin could imagine his mother nodding and looking sad. “When he was sixteen he was dating this boy from the private school down the road. I knew he was gay – he’d told me already, we were close back then. He and that boy, whose name was Nigel, I believe, went to the cinema to see a picture and were snogging” – Merlin’s mum laughed a little – “in the back seats. A few boys from Merlin’s school saw them . . .” Her voice trailed off and Merlin swallowed hard, leaning against the wall, listening intently.  
  
“Did something bad happen?” asked Arthur, his voice light and soft, as though he didn’t really want to ask the question.  
  
“Yes. The boys pulled Merlin and Nigel out of the cinema, called them ‘fags’ and ‘poufs’ and beat them pretty badly.”  
  
“How badly?”  
  
“Merlin was in hospital for almost two weeks,” replied Hunith. “He was never in danger of dying or anything – well, that’s not true, the doctors thought the first twenty-four hours that he could die, and then after that when he seemed to be better, they couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be brain damage. . . . Those boys, they broke several ribs . . . he had a terrible concussion. . . . It was one of the most frightening times in my life. I worked at the same hospital and one of the other nurses came to get me, running to my floor, and I could tell something terrible had happened. Never in my life have I been so scared. My baby was lying there, in one of the starched beds, his face swollen, his bones broken, and all because he was just being who he was, who he was born as.”  
  
There was silence from the kitchen and Merlin tried to imagine what Arthur’s face must look like. He was just as glad he couldn’t see it; he didn’t want Arthur’s pity. Merlin shut his eyes against the memory.  
  
“So that’s why he left England,” stated Arthur.  
  
“He took his A-levels as soon as he could and left almost immediately – or least, that’s how t felt. I didn’t know he had applied to schools in the States, but he had and he left a few months later for New York City.”  
  
“I had no idea. I knew something had happened, but I never figured – I just didn’t know.”  
  
“Which is why I am so grateful Merlin met you. You brought him home. You know, Arthur, ever since Merlin left, he’s promised to always be himself. He hid who he was here and as a result, he believes he was punished for it by those awful boys. I think some people are scared of what’s different, and Merlin was different. This is a small village and most people fancy themselves religious and think that people like Merlin don’t deserve the right to be happy. But when Merlin went to New York, he said people were different there and he never hid who he was. He’s been happier in the States than he ever was here. I miss him, of course, but I could never ask him to live somewhere that didn’t make him happy. I know things between you two haven’t always been perfect, but I think you make him happy.”  
  
“I hope so,” said Arthur softly.  
  
“Don’t break his heart.”  
  
Arthur chuckled. “I think you should be more worried about him breaking mine, to be honest.”  
  
Merlin decided he had heard enough and walked into the kitchen. “I’m dressed. Let’s get this over with.”  
  
“Going into the village will be fun,” said Hunith, wiping at her eyes. “A lot has changed since you were last home.”  
  
“Not enough, I bet,” grumbled Merlin.  
  
“I’ll get my car keys.” Hunith squeezed Merlin’s shoulder as she walked past him and out of the kitchen.   
  
Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Arthur’s shoes. He watched as Arthur stood and took the few steps over to where he slouched.  
  
“Are you all right?” asked Arthur.  
  
“I just feel so weird being back here.”  
  
Arthur put his hands on Merlin’s hips. “I don’t like that look. What’s going through that brain of yours?”  
  
“I don’t know,” lied Merlin.  
  
“You do, but you’re not telling me. I don’t like those thoughts.”  
  
“Sorry,” mumbled Merlin, even though he wasn’t.  
  
Hunith came back into the kitchen and Arthur let go of Merlin. “Ready?”  
  
The trip into town was uneventful. They bought bread for Christmas dinner and fresh apples so Hunith could make a pie. Arthur drug Merlin into a small shop that sold Christmas ornaments and bought two silver ones that matched their tree back home.  
  
“But we didn’t even put up a tree this year,” whined Merlin.  
  
“We will next year,” replied Arthur, “if we spend the holiday at home.”  
  
Merlin mostly pouted and Arthur mostly pretended Merlin wasn’t in a bad mood, which made Merlin pout even more. Arthur and Hunith were jovial and seemed to get along great, although Merlin really had no doubts that they wouldn’t. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly when Merlin stepped outside of the café where they bought sandwiches for lunch to smoke a cigarette. Arthur joined him, taking a drag or two off Merlin’s cigarette instead of lighting one of his own.  
  
“I like your mum,” he said. “She’s wonderful.”  
  
“Fantastic,” replied Merlin, though there wasn’t any sincerity in his voice.  
  
“Merlin, stop it. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, I just didn’t want to come into town.”  
  
“Why?” asked Arthur.  
  
Merlin looked at him, as though daring him to reveal his knowledge of what happened at the cinema when Merlin was sixteen. But Arthur didn’t mention it, perhaps because Merlin himself had never told him. Merlin didn’t want to burden Arthur with that kind of information. He didn’t want him to know about the bad parts of coming out in a small village. Arthur had enough personal issues about being gay, and Merlin didn’t want to scare him away by telling him about what happened to him. There was a part of Merlin that was still frightened that Arthur would wake up one morning and decide it was all too much, that he couldn’t handle Merlin any longer, that he wanted a “normal” life, that he wanted to be on speaking terms with his own family again. That he would wake up and realize that he and Merlin were too different, that there was no longer a place for Merlin in his life.  
  
“Shape up,” said Arthur sternly, “or I won’t give you your Christmas present.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Merlin. “We exchanged presents already back home.”  
  
Arthur shook his head, the look on his face very serious. “I saved one. I wasn’t sure I was going to give it to you yet, but I brought it along, just in case. I thought of giving it to you tomorrow, but if you’re going to pout like a sullen teenager, I’ll give it to somebody else.”  
  
“What kind of present? Maybe I won’t like it.”  
  
“See? You’re a teenager. And I’m not telling.”  
  
Merlin scowled. “You always like teasing me.”  
  
“I know. Cheer up, Ems. We never get this much time off work together. Enjoy it and stop sulking.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “All right, all right,” he said. He flicked his cigarette away and forced himself to smile.  
  
The rest of the day passed quickly. Merlin allowed himself some enjoyment in town and even began pointing places out to Arthur – _that’s where I went to primary school, that’s where Will and I used to sneak cigarettes when we were twelve, that’s where I played football even though I was crap at it._ Arthur seemed to like knowing this side of Merlin, the parts from his childhood, memories playing out in front of them as Merlin retold stories from his past. He never mentioned the cinema and even when they passed it, Merlin kept his mouth shut, and thankfully so did his mother.  
  
Hunith offered to make them supper around five o’clock when they arrived back home, but neither Merlin nor Arthur was hungry yet, so she fixed a salad for herself, apologizing for all the yawning. She kept early hours since she was normally at work at four in the morning and excused herself for bed not too long after eating. She kissed both Arthur and Merlin on the cheek before going to her room, wishing them both a Happy Christmas Eve.  
  
As soon as Hunith’s door had closed with a _click_ , Merlin rounded on Arthur.  
  
“I want my present.”  
  
Arthur laughed and leaned back on the sofa in the living room. He and Merlin had sat on opposite ends of the sofa as Hunith had sipped her tea, trying to stay awake and visit with “her two boys,” while sitting in her chair opposite them.  
  
“You’re rather greedy for someone who was so grouchy most of the day. I should never have told you about this.”  
  
“Well you did and you know I’m impatient, so let’s have it.”  
  
Arthur sighed and stood. He held out his hand; Merlin took it. He led them both upstairs to Merlin’s old bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, Arthur seemed to hesitate, looking at Merlin intently.  
  
“Merlin,” he said, his voice full of sudden seriousness, “you’ve given me more chances than I probably deserve. And I appreciate that. It means a lot to me that you’ve believed in me – in us.”  
  
Merlin sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at Arthur. He felt lightheaded, unsure of where Arthur’s speech was headed.  
  
Arthur crossed the room and stood in front of Merlin, cupping his face and tracing his ears with his forefingers. “I love you, Ems.”  
  
“I know. You’ve said that a lot the last couple days.”  
  
“I don’t say it very often.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Should I say it more?” Arthur didn’t wait for Merlin to respond. “Sometimes I don’t say it because I don’t want to ruin the meaning. I don’t want to cheapen it. But I do, Ems. Probably from the very beginning. There was this cord, pulling me to you, and as hard as I tried to ignore it or sever it, it was always there. And now it’s wound so tightly, I don’t think it could ever be undone. I think I’m yours forever.”  
  
Merlin blinked but couldn’t look away from Arthur’s eyes. This speech – Merlin had never heard Arthur speak like this. There had only been once, over two years ago, when Arthur had shown the same raw emotion, the same vulnerability. It was a side Merlin was so unfamiliar with that he didn’t know how to react.  
  
Arthur let go of Merlin and stepped backwards, turning to his luggage and shuffling through his neatly folded shirts and trousers. It took him a moment, but he found what he was looking for. He held the box in his hand as he sat next to Merlin on the bed. His eyes were focused on the box and Merlin stared at it, too.  
  
“Here,” whispered Arthur. “I don’t know what you’ll think or if you really even want it, but I saw it and I’ve had it for almost a year now. I was never sure when the right time – or if there would ever be a right time – but now . . .” His words faltered. “Sometimes I’m scared.” His voice was so low, Merlin could barely hear him.  
  
“Of what?” asked Merlin, his voice equally as soft.  
  
“Of losing you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Arthur took in a deep breath. “Because of me. I’m not the easiest person to be with and yet you’re with me and you put up with all my—”  
  
“Insecurities?” offered Merlin.  
  
Arthur laughed. “That’s not the word I was going to use but sure. If you want to call it that, then sure.” He shrugged. “Anyway. This is for you.”  
  
He handed Merlin the box. Merlin held it, looking at it, almost unsure of what to do with it. He had an idea of what was inside, of what it might mean when he opened it up, and suddenly he felt scared himself.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Merlin opened the box and looked inside.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**Over two and a half years ago**  
  
The first few months with Merlin were hard. They never saw enough of each other. Arthur was still technically an intern and worked eighty hours a week. Sometimes he was on-call at the hospital for thirty-six hours straight, barely able to take naps in the on-call room. Merlin’s schedule was much the same. Even though his department had hired new nurses, he still seemed to work overtime almost every week. Some weeks would go by and the only times they were able to see one another was at the hospital. Their relationship seemed to be via their mobiles, sending text messages to one another because one of them was always at work.  
  
“How the hell do you do it?” Arthur asked one day to Elena Cosgrove, the head of the Emergency Department. For some reason, she had taken a liking to him, offering to mentor him, giving him general advice, but most importantly, letting him vent when he needed to complain to someone about his job, the patients, and the general insanity which was their public hospital. She had a way of making him laugh at the end of each of his rants which always calmed him down. He preferred talking to Merlin, to letting him be the one to offer him laughter, but he always turned to Merlin for comfort and support after losing a patient – Elena Cosgrove offered guidance and humor when he was otherwise lost as a new doctor.  
  
She had called Arthur into her office one Friday afternoon. Arthur thought she looked extremely young to be the head of any department. Her hair was blonde, long, and always pulled back in a ponytail. She never wore makeup or jewelry, save a plain silver band on the ring finger of her left hand. Whenever she was in her office, it was always to go through charts and paperwork, and when she was, she wore a pair of reading glasses.  
  
“How the hell do I do what?” she asked, peering at Arthur over the rim of her glasses.  
  
“You’re married, yeah? How do you stay married and have this job?”  
  
Elena put down her pen. “You’re an excellent doctor.”  
  
Arthur paused, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, Arthur said, “Thanks.”  
  
“I want you here as a resident. Do you want that?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Yes. I like it here.”  
  
“Good. We’ll make it happen when your internship is over.”  
  
“Good. Er, is that why you called me in here?”  
  
Elena nodded. “Yes. I’ve got my eye on you. You’re a natural leader, aren’t you? You struggled at first, but you’re doing so much better.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“Have you ever thought of being in administration?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No.”  
  
Elena looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if you’d like it, but you might. It would certainly leave you more time to see your girlfriend.”  
  
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” said Arthur automatically.  
  
Elena raised her eyebrows. “But you just asked—”  
  
“How you stay married with this job? I know, but . . .”  
  
“I’m technically not married,” said Elena carefully. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “I have a wife.”  
  
“Oh,” said Arthur. Then, “ _Ohh_.”  
  
“She’s a physical therapist at the outpatient building. We manipulate the schedules so we can see one another. Is your girlfriend not happy that she never sees you? Don’t tell me you don’t have a girlfriend. I see you on that cell phone of yours. And I won’t believe for a second that you’re sending that surgeon all those texts – whatever his name is.”  
  
Arthur was silent for a moment, unsure of the words he should say. “Well,” he began. “I don’t know. I know _I’m_ not happy about not having enough time together.”   
  
“Hmm,” said Elena. “Being an intern is a bit like slavery. You’re the hospital’s bitch. You work eighty hours, you’re here all the time. And when you leave you’re too tired to do anything but go home and sleep. Most marriages don’t work during these first few years. If you can get through it, I believe your relationship will be stronger. All those messages aren’t to that surgeon, are they?”  
  
Arthur laughed and shook his head. “No way. Lance and I are mates. He just started dating someone from human resources, if you can believe the irony.”  
  
“Gwen? She’s lovely. I’ve seen them around the hospital together.” Elena folded her hands on her desk. “Arthur, you’re a very high performing doctor and I want to keep you happy.”  
  
“Why me?”  
  
“I want to keep all my doctors happy, but not all of them will stay around. Many of them will go to other hospitals, will leave Emergency behind and do other things. It happens. This is the only trauma one hospital within a hundred miles. Many can’t take that sort of pressure. You thrive on it.”  
  
“I like it,” agreed Arthur.  
  
“Where does your girlfriend work?”  
  
“I don’t have—”  
  
“Fine, fine, you don’t have labels,” dismissed Elena with a wave of her hand. “Where does this person you’re sleeping with work?”  
  
Arthur hesitated, unsure if he should give away too many details. “Here,” he said, “in the hospital.”  
  
Elena rolled her eyes. “These nurses, I swear, they’re always all over the doctors. You better treat her well or else Gwen will be calling me.”  
  
“I highly doubt you’ll have to deal with Gwen,” said Arthur honestly. “They’re rather close friends.”  
  
Elena opened her mouth as though to respond but closed it. She and Arthur looked at one another and suddenly Arthur knew he had revealed too much. Clearly Elena knew that Gwen didn’t have many friends inside the hospital and the only person she was ever seen with other than Lance was Merlin from ICU.  
  
“So,” said Elena slowly, “you don’t have a girlfriend.”  
  
“No,” replied Arthur, “and I don’t really want people knowing that I don’t have a girlfriend.”  
  
She nodded. “All right, then. I think someone is paging you.”  
  
Arthur looked at his mobile. “Car accident. Thanks for the, er, advice.”  
  
“Any time.”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
March melted into April and the new month brought days of endless rain. It was a rare occasion when both Merlin and Arthur had three days off in a row. The first day and a half Arthur spent in bed, mostly sleeping, occasionally fucking Merlin.   
  
Merlin came over with an overnight bag, as he often did, and stayed in bed with him. Arthur would wake, see Merlin sitting next to him, reading a book or checking email on his laptop. He would drape an arm around Merlin, mumble meaningless words into his hip, and fall back asleep.  
  
He woke around three in the afternoon, his arm still around Merlin, his knee in between Merlin’s thighs. He breathed in, smelling Merlin’s scent.  
  
“Finally you’re awake,” said Merlin. “Don’t go back to sleep.”  
  
Arthur slid his body on top of Merlin, kissing his neck and shoulder. “No. Sorry. I can never fall asleep at the bloody hospital so I come home and sleep for days instead. I know it’s not really fair. . . .”  
  
“No,” confirmed Merlin.  
  
Arthur sat up, bringing Merlin with him. He pulled Merlin’s t-shirt up and over his head and bent down and trailed kisses across Merlin’s chest. His fingers were already at the waistband of Merlin’s pajamas when Merlin stopped him.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
Arthur pulled back. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Merlin smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. But I want to try something different.”  
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Absolutely.”  
  
“I’m never on top and I want to fuck you.” He pressed his index finger into Arthur’s chest as he said it, his smile never wavering, but Arthur could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “We’ve been together for over three months and you never have let me, but I want to see what you look like when you’re all fucked out.”   
  
Arthur sighed and felt utterly wretched. He tried to think back to the times when they’d been together. Usually he brought Merlin off with his hand, or Merlin brought himself off while Arthur was inside him. Merlin’s body had already grown accustomed to Arthur, as though opening itself up and molding around him when he entered Merlin. He loved the feel of Merlin, every bit of him, and while he hadn’t yet spoken the words, Arthur knew it was more than just Merlin’s body that he loved.  
  
“Right,” he muttered with a sigh. He felt his pulse quicken as he thought about it. His mouth went dry. He had no idea why he was having this reaction – perhaps he thought that it would never come up, that Merlin would always be happy with the way their sex life was. But this act that Merlin wanted to do, this thing Merlin was asking of him, it would be more than Arthur had ever given any man in his life. It would be opening him up, leaving him vulnerable; this was an act of gay men, an act that Arthur had so carefully avoided in his past. Could he possibly be willing to give away this part of himself and give it to Merlin? Arthur had never admitted to himself that he was gay; that word had not come out of his mouth, and by doing _this_ , it was as good as that word – the one he so carefully avoided saying.  
  
“Are you all right?” asked Merlin, bending his neck and kissing Arthur’s shoulder.  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I’m . . . gay.”  
  
Merlin pulled away from Arthur so he could look him in the eye. “Yes,” he confirmed.  
  
“I’ve never said that aloud before.”  
  
Merlin reached and touched Arthur’s cheek. “Even to yourself?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No. I told my sister over Christmas, but I didn’t use that word.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I don’t want to be.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“But I am. I’m gay.”  
  
Merlin smiled, but it looked sad. “You should want to be who you are,” he said, “or else you won’t be happy.”  
  
“What I want is to be with you. Period.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “If this is meant to be, everything will fall into place. I won’t force it, but I won’t wait around forever either.”  
  
He kissed Merlin, hard and wet, placing as much emotion behind it as he could. He wasn’t very vocal about how he felt. Now he felt exposed, naked in a way that he’d never felt before, sitting in front of this _man_ , talking about the things they did with their bodies, open and honestly. Arthur had never experienced such honesty and it left his heart raw. “Thank you,” he said. “I mean it.”  
  
Merlin nodded again. His stomach rumbled. “I’ve been waiting for days for you to wake the bloody hell up. Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
They didn’t argue about much. Merlin seemed accepting of Arthur, and he had a willingness to wait while Arthur found his stride. Oftentimes Arthur felt that Merlin was secretly laughing at him, as though privy to some joke that Arthur didn’t understand. When he told Merlin this, Merlin just smiled and shook his head, stating that he simply had just never had the pleasure to watch someone come out before.  
  
At the hospital not much changed. Sometimes they met on the loading dock to steal cigarettes, but mostly they didn’t see one another. Arthur didn’t go out of his way to see Merlin; he didn’t purposefully avoid him, but he didn’t purposefully seek him out either. Merlin seemed to understand that work they were separate entities and didn’t press it, but sometimes when they shared gazes across the hospital cafeteria, Arthur thought Merlin looked sad.  
  
One day in mid-April, Arthur stood outside a patient’s room, holding up a series of x-rays for Lance and another surgeon, Dr. Rhys Jones to examine. As they were looking at the pictures, Arthur noticed Merlin coming down the corridor. Their eyes met and for the first time, Arthur was surprised to see Merlin looking somewhat unsure of himself.  
  
“Hi,” said Arthur as Merlin approached.  
  
“Hello. I, er—”  
  
“Oh, hey, Merlin!” said Lance, surprised. “How’s Gwen?”  
  
“She’s well,” answered Merlin.  
  
“Good. She’s fantastic. I really like her.”  
  
“Er, she fancies you, too.”  
  
“She mentioned us getting together one night, since she and I are dating and you’re her best friend. I think she said you were dating someone new? Maybe we could double? Seems old-fashioned, but she wants us to be friends.”  
  
Arthur could tell Merlin was purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. “Yes, well, perhaps. I’ll talk to Gwen and we’ll see what happens.” He tried to smile.  
  
“What brings you downstairs?” asked Lance.  
  
“Er,” began Merlin, glancing at Arthur. “I’m on lunch and was going to see if you fancied an oxygen break.” He motioned towards the cigarette tucked behind his ear.  
  
Arthur looked at his watch and then back at Merlin. “I have to finish this consult here – patient may need surgery, but sure. Ten minutes?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Sure. I’ll be outside. Nice seeing you again, Lance, and I really will talk to Gwen about us getting together. I haven’t seen too much of her lately – she’s always with you.” This time, Merlin’s grin looked genuine and he blushed as he stepped away.  
  
Arthur looked back at the x-rays.  
  
“I didn’t know y’all were friends,” said Lance.  
  
“‘Y’all?’” repeated Arthur with a smirk. “We sometimes smoke together out on the loading dock. He’s rather witty, to tell the truth.”  
  
“Find out what you can about Gwen,” said Lance. “We’ve been dating two months, but I just can’t figure her out sometimes.”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Now, the x-rays?”  
  
“Be careful,” warned Dr. Jones. “I hear that that nurse – what did you call him? Merlin? – was gay.”  
  
“Oh,” said Arthur. “So?”  
  
“So just be careful.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” said Arthur, although he had a pretty good idea.  
  
“You get too friendly with him, people will talk.” Rhys shrugged. “That’s all.”  
  
“It’s a big hospital,” snapped Arthur, “I think I can be friends with one nurse without everybody thinking there’s some sort of scandal. Besides, it’s just a cigarette and he’s not trying to recruit me for the gay army or anything.”  
  
Rhys shrugged. “You never know. He may try to make a move on you is all. You know how they are.”  
  
“How who are?”  
  
“The gays.”  
  
Arthur felt his body began to shake. He had an urge to out himself right there, to tell Dr. Rhys Jones exactly what he thought, but he swallowed his anger and pointed back to the x-ray, his voice smooth and clipped. “Here is where the break is, and you can see from this fracture that the bone—”  
  
“Yeah, I see it,” said Lance. “We’ll definitely have to reset everything with surgery. She’ll likely need a pin here.” He pointed to one of the bones in the patient’s wrist. “It’s slow upstairs, there’re three open OR’s. I’ll call and get one prepped and we can operate now. Well, not me, I don’t do ‘bones,’ but I know Thompson is free.” He took the x-rays from Arthur and grinned. “Even if Merlin _did_ try to recruit you for the gay army, no one would believe it anyway.”  
  
“Thanks,” mumbled Arthur, not sure what he was supposed to be grateful for.  
  
“I’ll stay with your patient,” said Lance, “and take her upstairs.” He took the chart from the front of the hospital room. “Just sign off on it.”  
  
They made their notes quickly and Arthur signed his name, handing his patient over to Lance. It was a slow day and he excused himself, telling the nurses at the middle desks that he was going for a quick break, but he would be accessible from his mobile. They giggled, as they always did, when he said “mobile” instead of “cell phone.”  
  
Outside, the air was warm and Merlin wasn’t the only one standing on the loading dock. A few feet away were three other nurses, all women, gossiping about some television show they were all watching in their spare time. Arthur approached Merlin and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He took the cigarette Merlin offered him but lit it himself.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said Merlin, his voice low so the other nurses wouldn’t hear him. “I shouldn’t have come downstairs—”  
  
“No,” interrupted Arthur, “it was fine.”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I just don’t ever see you.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I know. Listen, do you know Dr. Cosgrove?”  
  
Merlin shook his head. “Not really. She’s head of your department, right?”  
  
“Right. She told me about this lecture in New York, developments in Emergency Medicine.”  
  
“Developments?”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “No idea. But it’s in two weeks and I thought if you could get a couple days off from ICU that you could come with me.”  
  
Merlin blinked, clearly stunned. “Are you mad?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I think you’ve lost your mind. I never thought _you’d_ invite me for a weekend away.”  
  
The three nurses all left the loading dock, and Arthur was quiet until the service door shut. He looked at Merlin and smiled, shaking his head. “I’m not mad,” he said. “The lecture is on a Tuesday, but I thought maybe we could spend a couple days in the city before coming back. Cosgrove already said I could have three days off. . . .”  
  
“Are any of the other doctors going?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “One, but he’s flying there and back in the same day. No one else wanted to go.”  
  
“All right,” said Merlin, “I’ll see what strings I can pull with my schedule.”  
  
“I should get back.” Arthur threw his cigarette over the side of the loading dock and crossed the platform to the service door.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
Arthur paused, his hand on the door handle.  
  
“About what Lance said . . . about Gwen wanting to go out with us?”  
  
Arthur hesitated. He turned back to Merlin. No one had ever left him feeling so naked before in his life. “Just Lance and Gwen, and me and you, yeah?”  
  
Merlin nodded.  
  
Arthur wet his lips and nodded slowly. “All right, then.” And he left to go back inside.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
The next week, Arthur was in ED 9, looking at a patient with burns on her hands from a small kitchen fire. She would be fine, but Arthur was waiting for a consult from a doctor in the burn unit who could better assess the girl’s need for hospital care. She was very scared, and he was in the middle of talking to her when Lance barged into the room. The door was open, but Arthur was still with a patient, and his eyes were wide as he turned and looked at Lance in disbelief.  
  
“Mate, what the hell?”  
  
“Excuse me,” Lance said to the girl, flashing her a wide smile. He grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him out of the room and into the corridor. “I could murder you,” he whispered. “How could you _not tell me_?”  
  
Arthur sighed loudly and shrugged. The night before he had ventured out with Merlin to meet Gwen and Lance. Of course, Arthur had been hearing all about Lance’s romance with Gwen, their interludes, their plans for the future even though they’d only been dating for a couple months. They seemed made for one another, something Arthur could only vaguely understand, and for some daft reason they wanted to be _best friends_ with Merlin and Merlin’s new boyfriend. Arthur didn’t understand this concept of double-dating or needing another couple to socialize with, but Merlin had been eager and Arthur wanted to make him happy.  
  
“You know I don’t care, right?” asked Lance, looking slightly unsure. “You could’ve told me before.”  
  
“It never came up,” said Arthur. “It’s nothing personal. No one knows. No one knew in the hospital except Merlin, obviously.”  
  
“No one else knows? At all?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “Look, I don’t want people knowing. It’s none of their business, all right? So just keep it between you and me, and please tell Gwen to keep her mouth shut, although she should have a good idea since she’s in human resources.”  
  
Lance nodded. “It really doesn’t bother me, all right? We’re still friends – er, what do you call it? Mates. We’re still mates.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“This is great, actually,” joked Lance. “Now I don’t have to worry about you trying to steal my girlfriend.”  
  
Arthur just rolled his eyes and went back into ED 9, leaving Lance chortling in the corridor.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
They had had arguments before, but not a _fight_ until the day they left for New York City. Merlin had driven over to Arthur’s house, his bag packed and ready to go. He put his stuff in the boot of Arthur’s car and went inside the house. He’d been given a key early on, mostly because of their different work schedules. That way he could let himself into Arthur’s house while Arthur was recovering from one of his mad thirty-six hour shifts and be there when Arthur woke up.  
  
Arthur brought his own bag downstairs and set it by the door. “Can you look at the tickets? They’re on the table. I want to know what gate we’re leaving out of.” He motioned towards the coffee table in his living room as he went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. When he came back into the living room, Merlin looked angry. “Are you all right?”  
  
“You bought business class? These tickets are eight- _hundred_ dollars. I’m not poor, but I can’t afford to pay for this.”  
  
“You don’t have to pay me back,” said Arthur. “I invited you, I had no intention of taking your money. What’s the big deal?”  
  
“It’s _eight hundred dollars_.”  
  
Arthur put his bottle of water down and tried to take hold of Merlin’s hands. “Look, my parents are wealthy and set aside all sorts of money in my account. My uncle left my sister and me all his money. I don’t have to even work if I don’t want to. Paying is nothing. I don’t even think about it.”  
  
“Lucky you.”  
  
“Don’t be like this. If you want, you can pay for dinner.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t placate me like I’m a child,” snapped Merlin. “This” – he waved the tickets in the air – “is not why I’m with you. I don’t want to feel like a charity case—”  
  
“You’re not!”  
  
“Or a girl. I’m not a girl, Arthur.”  
  
“I’m well aware of what gender you are, thank you very much.”  
  
“I’m not comfortable with all this . . . _money_. It’s not who I am. I don’t know how to deal with it. I lived in a poor town in England. My house was small and old. My sofa had holes in it. I didn’t live on an estate. I didn’t have cooks and housemaids. I went to public school. I had to work for where I am and work _hard_. Things weren’t handed to me. I don’t take things for granted.”  
  
“And I do?”  
  
Merlin didn’t respond and Arthur grabbed his bottle of water and went to the front door. “If you’re coming, lock the bloody door behind you.”  
  
They didn’t speak the entire ride to the airport. They rolled their luggage up to the check-in desk and waited in line. Arthur looked at the row of screens on the wall showing all the arrivals and departures; he found their flight next to the words ON TIME.  
  
Merlin touched Arthur’s arm and he flinched, pulling his arm away. The touch was intimate and Merlin scowled at Arthur’s reaction.  
  
“You’re not paying attention and you’re next,” snapped Merlin, his voice low. “My touch isn’t poisonous.”  
  
“People could see,” Arthur snapped back.  
  
Merlin stared at Arthur and looked as though he was struggling not to roll his eyes. When they got to the check-in counter, Merlin weighed his bag first, took his boarding pass, and walked to security, leaving Arthur behind. They didn’t exchange any words while they waited in security and stayed that way while they made their way to their gate. Once they were at the gate, Arthur sat down next to Merlin in the row of chairs, still silent.  
  
“Don’t sit too close,” said Merlin. “Someone might notice we’re traveling together.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” whispered Arthur, feeling tragic, but Merlin stood up and moved over a chair, his hands folded in his lap, the look on his face calculating. Arthur sighed, feeling more wretched.  
  
The plane ride felt long, much longer than it should have since Merlin wasn’t speaking to him, but then again, Arthur didn’t try to strike up a conversation either. When the flight attendant announced their descent into New York, Merlin finally spoke.   
  
“I hate the way you are so sensitive to being touched in public. It’s not as though I’m trying to molest you. I don’t even try to kiss you. I was just touching your arm.”  
  
Arthur turned away from the window and looked at Merlin. “I know, but I don’t like people knowing that about me. It’s our business, no one else’s.”  
  
“Who cares if they know? I really don’t think the people working the ticket counter at the airport care whether we’re traveling as work colleagues or lovers. They could give a shit.”  
  
“But _I_ give a shit.”  
  
Merlin shook his head and looked forward. “This is fucking ridiculous.” He sighed. “I’m not hiding who I am to be with you. People are going to know I’m gay. I’m not going to hide that. I don’t care if you want to keep things quiet at the hospital, really, that’s fine. But when we go out to dinner or the movies or when we go play pool at that pub I like, I don’t want to have to pretend at those places. I’m tired of pretending to be your mate. I told you once that I wouldn’t do it and now I’m putting my foot down.”  
  
“I went out with Lance and Gwen for you. They _know_ – because of you, because I knew it was important to you.”  
  
“You didn’t touch me once the entire dinner and you completely moved your arm when I tried to hold your hand under the table. Sometimes I like touching you, sometimes _I_ like being touched. I’m not even obnoxious about it because I know you, I know you like subtlety and that’s what I try to be!”  
  
Arthur didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent for several minutes before venturing, “What about the money and the plane tickets?”  
  
Merlin shook his head and looked at Arthur once more. “I don’t know. I can learn to accept that you’re going to spend far too much money on things, but I’m not going to live the rest of my life with you flinching every time I touch your arm in public. Stop being so scared and just _give in_.”  
  
“Sometimes I don’t know what the fuck we’re fighting about.”  
  
They didn’t speak much as the plane emptied and their silence carried them through towards baggage claim. Outside the airport, Arthur hailed a taxi and the driver placed their bags in the boot of his cab. In the back seat they looked out opposite windows. Arthur’s mind raced with the happenings of their day, trying to figure out why Merlin cared so much about money and why he, Arthur, couldn’t allow himself to relax enough to touch Merlin in public, to kiss his cheek when they parted ways, to press their hands together while they waited in the queue at the cinema. The answers seemed to evade him when he tried to grasp them.  
  
Arthur reached his hand over and touched Merlin’s thigh. Merlin turned and looked, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly. Arthur turned his hand over, inviting Merlin’s touch his. Merlin pressed his palm against Arthur’s and Arthur knotted their fingers together. His eyes sought out Merlin’s and he offered him a smile. _I’m sorry_ , his smile said.  
  
Merlin lifted their entwined hands to his mouth, his lips brushing across the back of Arthur’s hand. _I forgive you_.  
  
  


**_________**

**__________**

  
  
For his part, Merlin didn’t object once about money for the rest of the trip. He said he didn’t want anyone – especially Arthur – to ever think that he was with him because of money. Arthur had chuckled at this reasoning; for someone who didn’t care what people thought of him, Merlin cared what people thought.  
  
Their hotel room was large, with one king-sized bed and a small sofa near the window. There was a desk, two bedside tables, and a large balcony that overlooked New York. Merlin stood on the balcony on their first night in the hotel, leaning against the railing, looking at the park below. Arthur stood at the doorway, watching Merlin, his profile, the way his eyes scanned over the pink trees below.  
  
“It must be spring,” said Merlin. “All the flowers are blooming on the trees.”  
  
Arthur walked onto the balcony and stood next to Merlin, looking out. New York seemed to be beckoning to him, inviting him back. In the distance, he heard bells.  
  
“St. Agnes,” said Merlin, as though answering Arthur’s silent question. “She has a seven-thirty mass every night.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It’s kind of beautiful. Like New York has its own song.”  
  
Arthur smiled and nodded. He watched a horse-drawn carriage, the size of an ant from as high up as their hotel room was, as it went up the road in the park. “Do you ever think of coming back?” asked Arthur.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Me too. I was so anxious to leave, but sometimes I miss it. The restaurants and the bars. I liked going to concerts and plays. I liked living in anonymity even in the middle of a city of so many millions of people.”  
  
“We live in a big city now.”  
  
“Nothing like New York.”  
  
“I know. I miss it, too.”  
  
“Perhaps one day we’ll move back,” said Arthur, keeping his eyes on the city below, “you and me.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Arthur turned and kissed Merlin, capturing his mouth and placing his hands on Merlin’s hips, turning him until they faced one another. He could taste Merlin’s cigarettes and the wine they’d had at dinner. His hands inched their way underneath Merlin’s shirt and he traced the bumps of Merlin’s spine with his fingers.  
  
Merlin walked backwards, carefully and slowly, until they were off the balcony and back in their room. Arthur pulled Merlin’s shirt up and over his head, dropping it on the floor. His lips found the dip in Merlin’s neck and he kissed his way across Merlin’s bare shoulders.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said into Merlin’s skin.  
  
Merlin pushed Arthur away, his hands on his shoulders, and looked him straight in the eye. “Did I hear you right?”  
  
“Yes. I don’t know why I’m like this – I simply am.”  
  
“I’m sorry, too. Perhaps I push you too hard. And I’m sorry about the money stuff.”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“I suspect we have a bit to work on, me and you, but we’ll get there. I think we’re supposed to be together, y’know? Supposed to make it work.”  
  
“Because of that destiny rubbish?” teased Arthur. “You’re the ying to my yang. The salt to my pepper. The head to my tails.”  
  
“Now you’re just making fun of me,” pouted Merlin.  
  
“Mercilessly.”  
  
Merlin laughed softly, but his smile quickly disappeared as he stared into Arthur’s eyes.  
  
Arthur looked away, afraid of what Merlin might read from his gaze. He knew his eyes would tell the truth of how he was feeling right at that moment, so he dipped his head and kissed Merlin’s collarbone. He could tell everything would be slow tonight, careful, exploratory. His fingers worked on ridding Merlin of the rest of his clothes before he took off his own. Skin against skin, Arthur ran his hands along the expanse of Merlin’s chest, across his stomach, caressing the impossible sharpness of his hip. They made love to one another with their hands, then their mouths, bringing themselves to the brink, the edge, but not allowing themselves to fall – not yet. Not quite yet.  
  
Merlin left the bed once, to rummage in his suitcase for the condoms and the small tube of lubricant – both of which made Arthur flush – such a harsh reality when this act was so beautiful.  
  
There was a smile, a hint of something dirty hidden behind the gleam in Merlin’s eye, and Arthur’s pulse quickened at the thoughts that must be going through Merlin’s head. He watched as Merlin sat next to him and slicked his fingers. His eyes stayed on Merlin’s hand as it reached behind him – nothing made Arthur quite as hard as when Merlin touched himself, opened himself up, and readied his body.   
  
But no – this wasn’t the time. Arthur wanted Merlin – he _wanted_ him. All of him. He wanted Merlin as his, never to let go. He had to compromise, let himself go, give himself over. And he wanted to, wanted them to be equals, to give and share, as a whole, as one. Even though it made his hands shake and his heart slam, he made the decision. Arthur reached out, took hold of Merlin’s wrist, and guided his hand towards him.   
  
He lay back, bringing Merlin on top of him, positioning Merlin between his legs. Merlin’s fingers had been inside him before, usually during foreplay, with Merlin’s mouth around him. This time was different and the way Merlin breathed heavily against Arthur’s lips let him know that Merlin knew this too.  
  
Arthur pushed up into Merlin’s finger, feeling him add another and another, working him open. Merlin was so gentle, so soft, as though his fingers were kissing him, loving him, and Arthur almost choked on the air in this throat. Their actual kisses were the same, slow, but deep, full of want.  
  
Then he was ready. He was hard and so was Merlin, and now – he wanted it now.  
  
Arthur reached for the condom Merlin had grabbed and he opened it, slowing fitting it over Merlin.  
  
Merlin’s mouth opened as if to ask the question, but Arthur nodded his silent answer and made to turn over. Merlin stopped him and carefully pushed him down, on his back, facing him. He pushed Arthur’s knees up and apart – and then…  
  
The feel of Merlin inside him made bile rise to the back of Arthur’s throat. He slammed his eyes shut and all the air left his lungs. It burned, stretched, hurt, and Merlin stilled, as though allowing Arthur’s body to relax and accept.  
  
Merlin kissed each of Arthur’s eyelids and then said, “Look at me.”  
  
Arthur opened his eyes.  
  
“Relax.”  
  
Arthur nodded. He swallowed and allowed himself to breath. His muscles unclenched and he reached up and hooked his fingers behind Merlin’s ear, rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone. He brought Merlin down so he could kiss him and as his tongue slipped into Merlin’s mouth, he felt his body give in.   
  
At first Merlin moved slowly, pressing in, sliding out, being careful not to hurt him. Soon Arthur laughed – an uncontrollable urge – and when Merlin looked at him questioningly, Arthur kept the smile on his face and bought him down for another kiss. Merlin picked up his pace, moved more quickly, and while there was still a burn to it, a slight pain, it didn’t feel terrible. And Arthur knew this was _Merlin_ inside him and it was all overwhelming. Merlin moving, pressing, touching, being as much inside his body as he was already inside his heart.  
  
And when Merlin came, Arthur dug his fingers into his backside, holding Merlin’s place inside of him, wanting the feel of him to stay for as long as possible. Slowly, Merlin slid out of him, leaving Arthur feeling strangely slick, but also as if there were now a void in his stomach, as though a part of himself had been misplaced.  
  
Merlin brought a towel from the bathroom and cleaned them both up, then kissed Arthur’s body until they both fell asleep in silence, arms curled around each other.  
  
Arthur dozed, his sleep light. His body was so tightly wound with Merlin’s that it was hard to tell whose limbs belonged to whom. It surprised Arthur how much he liked this feeling, of being so tangled against another person that he might never be undone. Next to him, Merlin breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling underneath Arthur’s hand.  
  
Arthur carefully slid out of bed, mindful enough not to wake Merlin. They had never shut the balcony doors and the air inside their hotel room was cool. Arthur grabbed his red boxer-briefs from the floor and put them on. He took a wool blanket from the hotel closet and walked through the French doors and onto the balcony. He wrapped himself up in the blanket, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as though actively holding something inside him back.  
  
In the distance, he heard those church bells again, even though it was well after midnight. The city was quiet, a hazy charcoal color filled the air, darkness from the night mixed with the glow of the lamps on the street below. He remembered New York, the loud noises and grumpy people, the way the rain made discarded newspapers stick to the sidewalk, the cab drivers who stuck their heads out their windows to yell obscenities, the way everybody had to move their cars to the other side of the street on Mondays so the street cleaners could come by. He also remembered the way he’d go into a bar, scan the room, and find a man to take him home. It was easy, to slide up next to a man at the bar, offer to buy him a drink, place his hand on a muscular arm, and smile. He never had pick-up lines or rouses – and it was never difficult. The men were handsome, always athletic, because Arthur would never settle for less. And no one ever said no.  
  
Arthur felt his knees buckle and he sat down on the balcony, his back against the outside wall of his hotel room. His mind swarmed with all the men he’d been with, the anonymous sex they had. He was always safe and always on top. He’d fold his body against the men, his chest to their backs, and thrust rough and hard. Never did he have sex with those men face-to-face; kisses were minimal and Arthur always got-off first. It was primal, animalistic, without a trace of love or humanity, but Arthur had forced it to be that way, pushing his desires for male companionship so far inside that he hid not only his sexuality but himself as well.  
  
The tears came unexpectedly, hot as they fell down his cheeks. They weren’t sobs or hysterics, just a steady drop . . . drop . . . _drop_ . . . down the side of his nose, over the curves of his lips. Arthur pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm down.   
  
Merlin had refused to let him turn around, wanted to make love where they could look at each other. And that’s what it was, an act of love. Even though it was sex, naked, sweaty, and sticky, there was emotion underlying it, something thick and almost tangible, grasping desperately at Arthur’s heart, tugging at it, making him feel _more_ , more than just what was happening with their bodies.   
  
Merlin came outside moments – maybe minutes or hours – later, pajama bottoms slung around his hips. He crouched down next to Arthur, pressing a hand against Arthur’s blanket-covered shoulder.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Arthur sniveled and wiped his eyes. “Nothing.” He shook his head.  
  
“Tears aren’t nothing,” whispered Merlin. “When was the last time you cried?”  
  
Arthur struggled to remember. “I don’t know.” When he was thirteen, he twisted his ankle during football practice and broke the bone; he didn’t cry then. When he was sixteen, the family dog died, suddenly and unexpectedly; he didn’t cry then either. When he was twenty and David walked out his door and out of his life forever, no tears came. But now, here he was, crying in New York. The tears were quiet and his breath was even, but still he couldn’t stop.  
  
“I’ve never been so bad in bed that a man left the room to bloody cry.”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. “It was great. I actually liked it – fuck! Goddamn it!” he cried.   
  
“Did you want to hate it?” asked Merlin. He sat on the balcony next to Arthur, their sides pressed against each other.   
  
“No,” said Arthur honestly, “but I think I was afraid of what it would mean if I did like it.”  
  
“Oh. Still hung up about being gay, then, yeah?”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “It just seems to make things more complicated. People look at you differently, think about you differently.”  
  
“The ones who do are not worth your time, you know that don’t you?”  
  
Arthur shrugged again. “I’ll be all right,” he said. “I’m glad we did it.”   
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Enough to let me do it again?”  
  
Arthur nodded again. “Yes,” he repeated. “Honestly, yes. Did you like it?”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course I did. What a ridiculous question.”  
  
He leaned over and kissed Merlin, just lips against lips, chaste. Merlin’s hands reached up and cupped Arthur’s face. When Arthur pulled back, he smiled, his eyes suddenly out of tears. “Thanks for sticking with me, Ems.”  
  
“Ems?”  
  
“I’m trying it out. Your name is full of M’s, yeah? Lots of ‘ems.’”  
  
Merlin smiled. “I like it.”  
  
“I love you,” said Arthur without thinking about it.   
  
Merlin was quiet, his eyes staring into Arthur’s. “Really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He looked thoughtful, contemplative, as though measuring out the words in his head before his mouth spoke them. The silence pressed on. Merlin lifted Arthur’s arm and put it around his shoulder until Merlin was as wrapped-up in Arthur as Arthur was in the hotel blanket. They stayed there, on the balcony, in the middle of the night, listening to the taxis drive by, tires splashing into deep puddles on the road, and to the occasional passersby laughing as they stumbled home from the various bars up and down the street.  
  
“I always wondered what it might be like to be loved by you,” said Merlin, his lip vibrating against Arthur’s bare shoulder.  
  
“Oh? And?”  
  
“Not bad,” replied Merlin. “A little relieving.”  
  
“Relieving? What does that mean?”  
  
“I feel like I can breathe a little easier now. Every day I wonder if it’ll be the last day I talk to you and every time we have sex I always wonder if that would be the last time, if I’d ever get to kiss you again.”  
  
Arthur felt confused. “You’re not insecure, though. I’ve never met anyone more secure.”  
  
“Only with you. It kind of fucks with my head.”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
“I was afraid you’d leave me, afraid that I’d push too hard and you’d get too angry and leave.”  
  
“You _do_ push hard, but I’m not saying I don’t deserve it. I know how I am. I know I’m arrogant and selfish and some might say peremptory. I’m under no illusions that I’m without faults. I’d assumed you’d leave before I would. I don’t plan on leaving. This thing between us, whatever it is, I feel as though I need to take hold of it and keep it locked tight so it doesn’t go away. Whatever you may think, I _am_ trying.”  
  
Merlin didn’t say anything else, just pressed his lips against Arthur’s skin. They sat there for a while longer and it wasn’t until Merlin pulled them back inside to bed that Arthur realized he couldn’t remember when his eyes dried up.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
After the trip to New York, Merlin stayed quiet about Arthur’s money, but Arthur knew that whenever he paid the dinner tab, Merlin was silently bothered. Arthur let Merlin pay sometimes, but ultimately it seemed so silly for Merlin to waste his own money when Arthur had more than enough to last a lifetime.  
  
Arthur had a large chest of drawers, an antique, that housed all his socks, boxers, and assorted t-shirts and jumpers. He emptied out the bottom one and shoved all of Merlin’s miscellaneous items in there. He never opened it, less get frustrated at the lack of organization, but it was Merlin’s drawer, full of extra scrubs and underwear for the nights he stayed over – which was almost every night. It was completely ridiculous for Merlin to continue to let a flat when he only stayed there once or twice a week, but neither of them brought this up.  
  
April quickly turned to May, then June, and then there were more burn-victims in the Emergency Department than Arthur knew what to do with.  
  
“Fourth of July,” Dr. Elena Cosgrove had said, “brings out the idiots who grill with too much lighter fluid and hold the wrong end of their sparklers. Have fun, Art.”  
  
Arthur had watched her walk away, completely amused by Americans. Truly he didn’t think people were such idiots back in England, yet he had never worked as a doctor there, so he couldn’t speak to that.  
  
Towards the end of July, Arthur began to complain about the heat and humidity and took two showers a day just to wash away the sweat.  
  
“I sweat even when I’m watching the bloody television,” Arthur said. He was in the shower, washing away the smell of hospital and sweat from his body. Merlin was there, sitting on the closed-lid of the toilet, flipping through the movie times listed in the newspaper and talking to Arthur while he showered.  
  
“Well, that’s the South, I suppose,” said Merlin. “Well, sort-of South. South enough. They call it humidity and it’ll make your bloody balls sweat right the fuck off your body.”  
  
Arthur parted the shower curtain and started at Merlin. “Did I hear that correctly?”  
  
“Yes,” replied Merlin without looking up. “I do want to see that new movie from Martin Scorsese.”  
  
Arthur smirked. “Of course you do.”   
  
From his bedroom, his phone rang.   
  
“Will you answer that?” asked Arthur.  
  
Merlin looked up. “Seriously?”  
  
“Please. Elena said she was going to call me about some stupid fundraiser the hospital is doing.”  
  
Merlin stood up and Arthur closed the shower curtain. As he squeezed shampoo into his hands, he could hear Merlin’s voice, albeit somewhat muffled.  
  
“No, Arthur’s in the shower . . . I’m Merlin . . . a friend of Arthur’s . . . no, I don’t make a habit of answering his phone calls, but he thought it might be the hospital and asked me to answer . . . yes, the shower . . . I don’t rightly know, I suppose I’ve known him since he first started working for the hospital . . . a nurse . . . no, I’m not a doctor . . . right, okay, I’ll just leave him a message, then, shall I?”  
  
Arthur quickly realized it wasn’t Elena Cosgrove, so he finished his shower in record speed and shut off the water, stepping out and reaching for the phone. Merlin stood in the doorway to the bathroom, looking somewhat panicked. He relinquished the phone immediately, his eyes slightly rounder than normal.  
  
“Hello?” said Arthur, dripping onto the tile floor, completely starkers.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
“Oh, hello, Mum.” To Merlin he mouthed, _Sorry_. “It’s the middle of the night there, why are you calling so late?”  
  
“We just got in – the Morrisons hosted a fundraiser for the hospital and we just danced all night. Who was that who answered the phone?”  
  
Arthur had a difficult time imaging his parents dancing together and figured his father probably drank brandy the entire evening while Ygraine danced with various other doctors. “That was Merlin, didn’t he introduce himself?” asked Arthur, even though he clearly knew Merlin had.  
  
“Yes, but you’ve never spoken about a Merlin before. Is he a friend of yours?”  
  
“Yes, he works at the hospital with me, mostly on the ICU floor. He’s a nurse.”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
Arthur reached for a towel and tried to dry himself off while keeping one hand on the phone. Merlin sniggered and took the towel out of his hand and began to do the work for him.  
  
“What time—? I don’t know. Nine, I suppose?”  
  
“That’s rather late for a mate to be at your house, don’t you think? And with you taking a shower! What would your girlfriend think if she knew about that?”  
  
“What on earth are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”  
  
“But if you _did_ , love.”  
  
“If you called to talk about my wedding date, nice try, but, uh, I don’t plan to ever have one.”   
  
Merlin was on his knees, drying off Arthur’s legs and Arthur watched him lean forward and press a kiss to his cock. Arthur’s eyes widened and Merlin looked up at him and grinned.  
  
“ _You’re evil_ ,” whispered Arthur.  
  
“What was that?” his mother asked in his ear.  
  
“Huh? Oh, nothing, I was talking to Merlin. Listen, we’re supposed to go to the cinema to meet some mates of ours from the hospital, so I really should hang up.”  
  
“Listen, Arthur, it’s about Morgana’s wedding.”  
  
“Oh. What about her wedding?”  
  
“Did you get her invitation?” Before Arthur could answer, his mother pressed on, “We would like for you to arrive two days before the wedding, but you can leave whenever you like. She originally wanted it outside on the beach, but thankfully she reconsidered – nobody wants sand in their shoes. So it’s been scheduled for November, but you got the invitation so you know all this already. Her fiancé wants you to be a groomsman.”  
  
“Pardon? Why doesn’t Leon just ask me that himself? If you insisted that I be in the wedding then I want no part of it. Morgana wanted me to be her maid-of-honor, but she thought you might have a coronary and so we decided it best if I just sit up front with you and Dad.”  
  
Merlin stood and went into Arthur’s bedroom. Arthur heard him rummaging through drawers and watched him pick out a pair of jeans and a blue striped button-down shirt; it was a shirt that Arthur didn’t particularly like but for some reason Merlin liked the way it looked so Arthur wore it at least once a week. Arthur stepped into his room and began to dress, raising his eyebrows at Merlin.  
  
Merlin shrugged and grinned and sat back on Arthur’s bed, watching him.  
  
“No, I didn’t insist that you be in the wedding, although it would be nice if you accepted.”  
  
“Mum, I really don’t have time for this. I will book my flight soon and see you in November. Try not to be too upset that Morgana is marrying a copper. At least she’s getting married in the first place. Enjoy the wedding, it will be the last one any of your children will have.”  
  
“ _Arthur_.”  
  
“Good bye!” Arthur pressed OFF and tossed the phone on the bed. He was half-dressed, his jeans on, but unbuttoned, and bare-chested. “Christ, I’m sorry,” he said. “My mother hardly ever calls me.”  
  
“When are you going to tell her?”  
  
“About what?” asked Arthur, pulling on his shirt.  
  
“About me . . . us . . . being gay.”  
  
Arthur carefully buttoned his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on it any time soon.”  
  
“Hmm,” hummed Merlin, as though thinking about something very carefully. “Tell your parents. And I’m picking the movie tonight.”  
  
Arthur didn’t argue about either point and just finished dressing so they could leave. After that, Merlin didn’t mention Arthur needing to tell his parents again, but he seemed amused every time his mother called and he answered the phone. Arthur gave Merlin permission to answer his home phone, mostly because Merlin was always there; he’d become such a fixture that it seemed normal for him to reach for the phone as he lounged on the sofa and take messages while Arthur was asleep or at work. Normally it was just Lance, occasionally Elena or Gwen, but every so often it was Arthur’s mother, who seemed exponentially annoyed every time Merlin answered instead of her son.  
  
Sometimes Arthur wondered if people at the hospital knew about him and Merlin. Sometimes he would eat lunch in the cafeteria and see Merlin sitting several tables over, eating lunch with some of the other nurses he was friends with, and he’d catch his eye and smile slightly and the moment would be over. They’d smoke their cigarettes outside on their “oxygen breaks” but never touch, never do anything intimate. There weren’t any outwards signs they were in any sort of relationship, but still Arthur wondered if anyone knew.  
  
Beyond that, Arthur wasn’t sure how he felt about others knowing. Part of him wanted them to, wanted the other hospital staff to look upon them and _know_. Yet another part of him wanted everything to remain a secret, didn’t want to know what went on in the minds of his colleagues and how they might begin to think of him if they knew he took another man to bed with him.  
  
Even though they worked in the same hospital, Arthur so rarely saw Merlin that he began to miss him. It was unnerving when he realized it, like a jolt of electricity through his heart. Days went by with the same feeling, the same wanting. When he finally gave in, Arthur finished up with his patient and took a break. He went up to ICU to see if Merlin wanted to go to the loading dock with him. It wasn’t as easy to get time alone out here when the weather was warm because some of the other personnel, mostly surgeons, played basketball, using the hoop that was nailed to the side of the building. It was usually different doctors and sometimes a couple of the techs from radiology, but unless it was middle of the night, someone was still out there, dribbling the orange ball. Still, even if other people were out there, it would be time with Merlin, where Arthur could at least _look_ at him.  
  
ICU at the hospital was the most silent of any of the other floors. All the doors were glass and each nurse was assigned to one patient. The rooms were arranged in an arch, the nurses’ station in the middle. ICU was also the most depressing floor, with patients who could die at any moment, family members sniveling at their sides. Arthur had no idea how Merlin stood it, stood being around so much death.  
  
Arthur had to use the bar code on the back of his ID badge to enter the ICU. He looked around for Merlin and found him standing at the nurses’ station, filling out paperwork.  
  
“Hi,” said Arthur.  
  
Merlin looked up, but he remained expressionless. Arthur could tell something was wrong.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“Two of the other nurses both called out sick with the bloody flu – which I know is legitimate because they were throwing up on shift yesterday, but it’s not any less annoying – so now we’re understaffed and I’ve got _three_ patients, two of whom will probably die in the next few hours, and this morning I got this _notice_ on my door that my landlord is selling the building and we’ve all got to move out in thirty days. I’ve also not had a single break in the last six hours and I’ve got another six hours to go before I can leave.”  
  
“No break in six hours? No wonder you’re miserable, you’re an addict, you need your oxygen fix.”  
  
Merlin blinked, clearly not amused.  
  
“I came up here to see if you wanted to go grab a quick cigarette, but you look like you need it more than I do. I can watch your patients while you go to the dock?”  
  
“No, these are my patients and if something happened while I was gone . . .” He shook his head. “Er, why are you up here?”  
  
“Didn’t I just say? To see if you wanted to grab a smoke with me.”  
  
“But you _never_ come to ICU unless you’re bringing a patient from ED.”  
  
Arthur shrugged.  
  
Merlin narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Fine,” snapped Arthur, “I missed you and wanted to see you.”  
  
Merlin’s expression softened. “Really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Merlin’s hand twitched but didn’t move, as though he wanted to reach out for Arthur but hesitated. He looked down at the stack of papers in front of him. “Charts,” he said. “I’m so behind on all these charts. ICU is such a mad place, y’know? I’ve never had three patients before. And the two who are so critical?” Merlin shook his head, unable to finish talking.  
  
“Are you off tomorrow?” asked Arthur.  
  
Merlin nodded. “I’m always off on Sundays unless I pick up overtime.”  
  
“Wait. Tomorrow’s Sunday?” asked Arthur, completely serious.  
  
“Yes. What day did you think it was?”  
  
“No idea,” said Arthur, looking off, his brain trying to keep the days straight. He hadn’t seen Merlin in _days_. “I had a thirty-six hour shift on Monday and left at two in the morning on Tuesday . . . well, I guess it was technically Wednesday at that point. Then I came back Thursday morning for a twenty-four hour on-call so I left Friday morning and now I’m down to sixteen hours – yeah, it is Saturday, isn’t it?”  
  
“Jesus Christ,” breathed Merlin. “How the _hell_ do you do it?”  
  
“Labor laws don’t really apply to interns, do they? As long as I don’t work more than eighty hours in a week . . .”  
  
“You didn’t even know what bloody _day_ it was, Arthur!”  
  
“Right, but when I get off tonight I don’t have to come back until Wednesday. Come over when you clock out, yeah?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “I’ll be over around ten. I didn’t bring any clothes to work with me, though. . . .”  
  
“Ohhh, Merlin,” sung a young nurse named Freya Michaels, coming up behind them, a chart in her own hands. “Making plans with your boyfriend?” She sat behind the nurses’ station and grinned at Arthur.  
  
Arthur looked at her and raised his eyebrows. He kept her gaze for a moment before looking back at Merlin. “That’s all right, you still have some clothes in your drawer, I think, or I can always drive by your flat and get them for you in the morning.”  
  
Both Merlin and Freya looked at Arthur in shock.  
  
“I was – I mean, I wasn’t serious,” said Freya. “It was a joke.” She looked at Merlin. “I didn’t know you _actually_ had a boyfriend.”  
  
“Neither did I,” said Merlin softly, his cheeks reddening, looking at Arthur.  
  
“I better get downstairs. I’ll see you later, Ems.”  
  
Arthur didn’t turn around as he left the ICU. He finished out his time in ED and left only an hour later than scheduled. He didn’t lose any patients so all things considered, it wasn’t a bad day. He went home, showered, and flopped down on top of the covers on his bed. He had no sense of time when he was that exhausted and didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when his mobile vibrated somewhere near him.  
  
Fumbling around for it, he found it lighting up on his bedside table. He had a new text message: _patient 1 died at 823p. patient 2 at 858p. i cant stop shaking nevr lost 2 patients back to back like that_  
  
Arthur felt a flood of emotion that he couldn’t explain. He quickly tapped out a response with his thumbs. _I don’t know what to say. Come home and I’ll try to make you feel better._  
  
Merlin’s response came a moment later: _ur house is not my home but i’ll be there in an hour_  
  
Arthur rolled over on his back and stared at the darkness. He hadn’t necessarily meant for Merlin to consider his house his home, but it definitely felt empty whenever Merlin wasn’t there. He had a drawer just for his clothes. He had an extra pair of trainers in Arthur’s closet. In Arthur’s fridge was always a six-pack of the beer Merlin liked, that weird smelly cheese he ate with crackers, and apple jelly that he spread on toast in the mornings, none of which Arthur ever touched. There was even a separate account on his computer just for Merlin when he wanted to check his email or go to those mad websites he fancied like Penny Arcade or Cakewrecks.   
  
Annoyed, Arthur took his phone and wrote: _Semantics._  
  
Merlin did come home an hour later. He showered first and Arthur waited for him. When he climbed into bed, Arthur wrapped himself around Merlin and held on tight.  
  
“I’m sorry you had a shit day.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “I know. It’s all right. Just hold me, please, for a little while.”  
  
“I won’t let go until you tell me.”  
  
Arthur began to doze immediately, the exhaustion finally taking him captive, but he was woken by Merlin’s question.  
  
“So, that new nurse Freya? She called you my boyfriend but you didn’t contradict her. Why?”  
  
“I don’t know,” answered Arthur. “Baby steps, I suppose.”  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
“You know – I’m _trying_. Why lie to that nurse and tell her we’re just mates when we’re not? I’m trying for you, you know.”  
  
“Thank you,” whispered Merlin.  
  
Arthur just nodded and began to doze again when Merlin asked another question. He had a notion to kiss him and fuck him, just to shut him up so they could sleep. He knew Merlin had had a horrendous day, but there was no way he could do or say anything tonight that would make Merlin feel better other than just touch him, hold him, tell him he loved him.  
  
“Do you realize you’ve never once called me your boyfriend to anyone else? Not even to me?”  
  
“Of course I have.”  
  
“No,” said Merlin. “You haven’t.”  
  
“Oh. Should I have asked you properly? I just assumed. I’m not seeing anybody else, I’m not sleeping with anybody else, and I have no plans to.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
“Should I call you something else? Whatever you want,” Arthur mumbled against Merlin’s skin.  
  
“Boyfriend is fine,” said Merlin.  
  
Arthur yawned. “Okay.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Good night.”  
  
“Night.”  
  
Arthur didn’t remember anything after that, giving fully into sleep. Sun shone through in broken lines through the blinds on his bedroom window. His home phone rang, but it was closer to Merlin’s side of the bed, so he nudged Merlin to answer it.  
  
Merlin fumbled for it, clicking it on and mumbling, “Hello? No, s’Merlin . . . y’know _Merlin_ . . . yeah, right, we’ve talked before . . . no, not drunk, tired, just woke up . . . dunno, hold on.” Merlin tossed the phone over his shoulder at Arthur. “S’your mother,” he said, pulling the bed sheets over his shoulder.  
  
“Yes?” said Arthur as he put the phone to his ear.  
  
“Your friend seemed terribly tired and grumpy on the phone.”  
  
“Your call woke us up,” said Arthur, keeping his eyes closed against the sunlight and he turned in bed and slid a few inches over until he had curved himself against Merlin. “What is it?”  
  
“Woke you up? Both of you? Arthur . . . did your friend sleep in your bed?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because he was tired.”  
  
“Arthur, I am not listening to this nonsense. You’re almost thirty years old. It’s time to grow up and out of this ridiculous phase. Get yourself together, come home, and we’ll help you find a lovely house to raise a family in—”  
  
“Mum, there is no ‘nonsense.’ Merlin sometimes sleeps in my bed and I’m all right with that. We can talk about this some other time when it’s not so early here. I’m hanging up on you and going back to sleep. Goodbye.” Arthur turned the phone off and curled more tightly around Merlin. “I may or may not have inadvertently outed us to my mother,” he said. Then he laughed, even though he knew it was _far_ from funny.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
A week later, Elena had hired a new doctor who specialized in emergency pediatrics. He was good-looking and very funny, even making Arthur laugh. Elena had instructed Arthur to give Dr. Gwaine Miller a tour of the hospital. Within moments, Arthur understood why Gwaine was such a sought-after pediatrician; if he could make Arthur laugh, he _certainly_ could make kids laugh. After their tour, they decided to have lunch in the cafeteria, although Arthur warned him not to try the macaroni and cheese.  
  
Arthur spotted Merlin sitting over to the side with another nurse from ICU and one of the nurses from psych. Merlin always knew everybody and somehow everybody liked him. Arthur watched as the two nurses got up and left the table, waving goodbye to Merlin. Immediately, Merlin took out his mobile and began to tap away at its keyboard. Arthur’s mobile vibrated in his pocket; he had a new text: _20 mins before ive to be back upstairs. oxygen break?_  
  
Arthur paid for his lunch, a spinach salad, no dressing, and waited for Gwaine to pay for his. “Come on, we can sit over here.” He motioned for Gwaine to follow him across the cafeteria and Arthur made his way through the maze of square tables towards Merlin.  
  
“Hi!” cried Merlin, looking surprised but pleased; Arthur had never sat with him in the hospital cafeteria before.  
  
Putting his salad down on the table, Arthur sat next to Merlin and grinned, feeling somewhat bashful. Merlin smiled back.  
  
“This is Gwaine Miller,” introduced Arthur. “He’s new to the ED, pediatrics.”  
  
“Oh, brilliant,” said Merlin. “Pleasure.”  
  
“This is Merlin Emrys. He works in ICU.”  
  
“ICU gives me the creeps,” said Gwaine, who had gotten the macaroni against Arthur’s warning. “It’s so quiet and it feels like everyone is on Death’s bed.”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “It’s just where I’ve ended up, I suppose.”  
  
“You’re a great nurse,” said Arthur. “Or at least, that’s the rumor.”  
  
“Thanks, but I’m not any better than any of the other nurses.”  
  
“I don’t know about that.”  
  
“You’re biased,” said Merlin.  
  
Arthur shrugged. “Maybe.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes playfully and then turned to Gwaine. “So, where are you from, Gwaine?”  
  
Gwaine opened his mouth to answer, but his mobile went off. He flipped it open, reading the message. “Shit, it’s Elena. Says HR wants me to sign some paperwork. Listen, I got to go take care of this. Merlin, it was nice to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you around the hospital, it’s nice to have a familiar face to look for. Most of these doctors are complete morons when it comes to life, but you look pretty normal.”  
  
Merlin laughed. “Thanks.”  
  
Gwaine left, taking his lunch with him.  
  
“Introducing me to your new friends?” said Merlin. “That’s a big step for you. I’m proud.”  
  
“Don’t mock me.”  
  
Merlin’s expression softened. “I really appreciate it. You’re not the person I met a year ago. You’re really not. I mean, you’re the same but different, y’know?”  
  
Arthur did know. “So . . . coming over after work?” He realized they were still sitting on the same side of the table and he stood quickly and moved so they were facing one another. If it bothered Merlin, he didn’t show it.  
  
“Freya is working the rest of the day for me, starting at two o’clock so I can go on the quest for a new flat. I bloody hate moving and now I’ve only got twenty-two days before I have to leave my lovely flat.”  
  
“Don’t do that.”  
  
“I have to. My landlord is selling my building, remember?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No, I mean don’t find a new flat. Just move in with me. You might as well save the money you’d spend letting a new flat. You’re over at my house nearly every night anyway.”  
  
“You’re serious,” stated Merlin, his eyes wide in shock.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’d have to pay you rent.”  
  
“You wouldn’t have to.”  
  
Merlin crossed his arms. “I’m not a char—”  
  
“Not a charity case, I know. You can pay me whatever you like, preferably in sexual favors, but if you’d rather pay all the utilities instead, that would be fine as well.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.”  
  
“My third bedroom is still empty. You could make it into your own office or just whatever you want to put in there, so if you ever need some extra space, it’s all yours.”  
  
“Ah, like a little breathing room for when I get sick of you.”  
  
“That will never happen, but in theory, yes.”  
  
Merlin smiled. “I’ll think about it,” he said again.  
  
“Why wouldn’t you want to live with me? I want you there. You should absolutely be there all the time with me.”  
  
“I’ve never lived with anyone before.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
“I’m a complete slob.”  
  
“I know, I’ve been to your flat – it’s disgusting.”  
  
“I leave my dirty laundry on the floor.”  
  
“I’ll buy you a clothes basket.”  
  
“I sometimes forget to brush my teeth at night.”  
  
“I’ll remind you.”  
  
“I take twenty minute showers everyday.”  
  
“I’ll get a bigger water heater.”  
  
“I don’t recycle.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
“I never fold my clothes and I don’t roll my socks before I put them in my drawer.”  
  
“I’ll do all our laundry.”  
  
“I don’t own a vacuum.”  
  
“I have two.”  
  
“I drink straight from the milk carton.”  
  
“I don’t like milk.”  
  
“I don’t empty my dishwasher. I leave all my dirty dishes in my sink and take my clean dishes out of the dishwasher one by one as I use them and then when it’s empty, I take the pile of dirty dishes in my sink and load them in.”  
  
Arthur paused. “Really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That one might be a deal breaker . . . I take it back, you can’t move in.”  
  
Merlin grinned and sniggered.  
  
Arthur took hold of one of Merlin’s hands from across the table, so caught up in the moment he didn’t stop to think that people might see them. “Look. I’ve enough room and I want you there. I like when you’re there. I like when I’m in the ED and I know you’re watching _The Price is Right_ on my television. Something about the way you rumple my bed sheets is comforting to me. I want you there.”  
  
“People will know. You wouldn’t be able to deny it if I lived in your house.”  
  
“It would be _our_ house and it’s no one’s business. Let them assume whatever they want.”  
  
“I don’t know,” said Merlin. “I don’t think you’re ready. You’re still too far in the closet.”  
  
“I’m not in the bloody closet,” gritted Arthur through clenched teeth. “I can’t hide that we’re together forever and I may not _say_ it to many people, but . . .”  
  
“But what?” Merlin sighed when Arthur didn’t answer. “It’s different for us,” he said. “If people asked about my boyfriend, I’d get to tell them that he’s a really great doctor. Wealthy beyond measure. Good-looking, muscular, athletic. A rugby player. Clever, serious. A terrible cook and complete rubbish when it comes to new technology, but overall as close to perfect as someone can get. But you have to tell people you’re dating just a nurse with skinny legs, messy hair, and ridiculous ears.”  
  
“I like your ears.”  
  
“That’s not the point. You’re out of my league.”  
  
“I don’t have a league,” replied Arthur. “And if I did, you would certainly be in it. Don’t talk like that. Everything you said was rubbish. Maybe it’s too quick for you to move in, but something about it feels right.”  
  
“Okay,” said Merlin softly. “I bet Lance would help us move my stuff.”  
  
“No, that’s what movers are for.”  
  
“I don’t want to waste my money on that. Besides, it’s more fun when you do it yourself.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
But Merlin merely grinned.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Merlin was completely serious, and two weeks later, Arthur found himself on one end of Merlin’s faux leather sofa, counting to three, and lifting it up. He carried it outside and down a flight of stairs towards the moving truck Merlin had gone to get at six that morning.  
  
“Remind me,” panted Lance, “why I am – doing – _this_.”  
  
“Because Gwen and Merlin are mates,” answered Arthur through clenched teeth, “and you and Gwen are—”  
  
“Engaged,” answered Lance.  
  
Arthur almost dropped the sofa. “ _What?_ ”  
  
“Yeah. Asked her yesterday. _Fuck_.”  
  
They reached the bottom of the stairs and both sat the sofa down on the sidewalk.   
  
“This couch might be the heaviest couch I’ve ever seen,” said Lance. “Doesn’t help that I just carried twelve different boxes full of hardback books down the stairs either. Doesn’t Merlin have any paperbacks, seriously?”  
  
Arthur looked behind him and up the stairs. Inside the flat were Merlin and Gwen, labeling the last of his boxes, and Gwaine “overseeing” things. Gwaine and Merlin had struck an immediate friendship so Merlin asked him to join the moving party, promising a payment of chips and alcohol at one of their favorite pubs later. Arthur was more than happy for the extra help; he hadn’t realized how much shit Merlin had.  
  
“I hadn’t planned on asking,” admitted Lance. “I didn’t even have a ring. I just looked at her and asked and she said yes. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. She loves handmade things, so I told her we’d go to a jeweler and design a ring for her.”  
  
“Unbelievable,” stated Arthur.  
  
Lance merely nodded. “Don’t go telling Merlin, he’ll expect a ring next.”  
  
“Don’t put any ideas in his head, please.”  
  
Lance laughed.  
  
“That was fast,” said Arthur. “You haven’t been dating very long.”  
  
“When you know, you know,” answered Lance with a shrug.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Because when I look at her, I don’t think of anyone else. I just know. Probably the same when you look at Merlin.”  
  
“I’m afraid of losing him sometimes,” said Arthur. “That he’ll get tired of my shit and walk away.”  
  
Lance laughed. “If what Gwen says is true, that will _never_ happen. She says Merlin can barely talk about anything other than you. Face it, dude, you’re probably gonna be stuck with Merlin for life.”  
  
Arthur took in a deep breath. The thought of Merlin being with him for life was both wonderful and positively frightening at the same time. “I don’t know why I asked him to move in. I hadn’t even been thinking about it – we’ve only been together for such a short time – but I can’t really imagine him living anywhere else.” Arthur sighed. “This relationship stuff isn’t really my thing, but with Merlin . . . everything is different with him. The world is different with him.”  
  
Lance smiled and nodded. “I understand.”  
  
“Don’t tell anyone I said that shit. I still want everybody at the hospital to think I’m a hard-ass.”  
  
“Oh, I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them.”  
  
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”  
  
  


**__________**

**24 December**  
  
Inside the box was a ring, just as Merlin suspected. He stared at it, riding the waves of emotions that swam through his chest. He couldn’t speak.  
  
“It’s from me to you,” said Arthur. “That I want you, if you’ll have me.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “This looks like a wedding ring.”  
  
“It could be,” said Arthur, “if you wanted. Or it could be just a regular ring.”  
  
“What was your intention?”  
  
“We can’t get married in America, so not a wedding ring. But something that says you’re mine.”  
  
Merlin nodded, understanding. “I wish I had one for you.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“No,” said Merlin, “I really think you should have one, too. If you’re serious about this.” He held up the ring.  
  
“I’m very serious about it.”  
  
Merlin took the ring out of the box and put it on his finger. It looked so foreign, yet so perfect. It was simple, smooth, and just putting it on somehow made Merlin feel more relaxed. Arthur said he was scared of losing Merlin, but if Merlin were honest, he was never fully relaxed, the thought in the back of his mind that Arthur may decide that he couldn’t handle being out, that he didn’t want to be gay, and would go back to England, back to Camelot, and carry out the life his parents wished for him. But this ring – this symbol – made Merlin feel grounded, rooted to Arthur, his support.  
  
“Okay,” said Merlin. He kissed Arthur, soft, chaste, and pulled away, a smile on his face. “I love you,” he said.  
  
Arthur ran his hands underneath Merlin’s shirt, touching his stomach. Then his shirt was being lifted over his head and Merlin raised his arms, allowing Arthur to undress him. Arthur’s hands pushed against his shoulders and Merlin lay back on the bed. Arthur undid the buttons to his jeans and Merlin lifted his hips as Arthur pulled them off. All reasonable thought left him as Arthur pressed kisses into the soft skin of his thigh, lips inching closer to his half-hard cock. Merlin twisted his fingers into Arthur’s blonde hair, unable to believe that this man wanted to love him for the rest of his life.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**About two years ago**  
  
When summer turned to autumn, things changed inside the Pendragon house. Arthur had a terrible week the last week of September, losing several patients and getting into several arguments with nurses and techs over things that later he couldn’t even remember. At home, he took his frustration out on Merlin. He didn’t yell or snap, but he was distant, cold, and moody. After the death of the fourth patient in only three days, Arthur slept on the sofa in the living room. He didn’t want to be comforted; he didn’t feel as though he deserved it. Intrinsically, he knew that it wasn’t his fault, that those patients had to come to him too sick or too hurt, but he’d never watched so many people die before.  
  
For three nights in a row, Arthur slept downstairs. When he woke that morning, he shuffled into the kitchen and took some of the coffee Merlin had just made. He leaned against the counter, sipping from his mug, very quiet. Merlin stared at him, as though silently begging for him to talk, but ended up just walking out the front door, slamming it behind him.  
  
At the hospital, Arthur went through the motions, trying to pay extra attention to his patients, but Elena assigned him to the Fast Trak that day, the section of the ED for minor illnesses, colds, and strep throat. She seemed to note that Arthur needed a day with a little less stress.  
  
Merlin came down to the ED to help with the transport of a patient. He caught Arthur’s eye and tried to smile; Arthur only gave him a slight nod of his head in response.  
  
“Who’s that?” asked one of the attendings, Dr. Roger Valiant.  
  
Arthur looked away from the chart that Dr. Valiant had asked for a second opinion on. “Nobody,” replied Arthur. “Just my housemate.” From the corner of his eye, he could still see Merlin and he immediately knew Merlin had heard him.  
  
He took is time getting home, knowing Merlin was already there. When he unlocked the front door, he saw a bag in the entryway, half-zipped and full of clothes. Arthur quickly shut the door behind him and ran up the stairs. Merlin was in their room, tying the laces of his trainers as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Oh,” said Merlin, quickly standing. “I was hoping to be gone before you got home.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s clear you don’t want me here.”  
  
“That’s not true.”  
  
“You’ve slept downstairs all week, you don’t speak to me, and then today in the ED – I _heard_ you.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want you to go.”  
  
“You can’t treat me like this. I’m going to Gwen’s, and I’ll come get the rest of my things when I’ve found a flat.”  
  
“Don’t,” said Arthur.  
  
“Whatever,” snapped Merlin. “I’m not your punching bag. Either talk to me or I’m gone.”  
  
Arthur stared at him, but kept his mouth shut.  
  
“Right,” said Merlin. “I’ll see you around.”  
  
Arthur didn’t move as Merlin walked past him and out of the bedroom. He stayed there, standing in the middle of his room, arms limp by his side, looking at his bed – _their_ bed – the way his side was smooth, sheets tucked into the side with crisp creases, and Merlin’s side, pillow sideways, sheets sticking out from underneath the duvet. Arthur heard the front door open and shut then Merlin’s car start and back out of the driveway.   
  
After what could have been minutes or even an hour, Arthur took his keys, wallet, and mobile out of his pockets and set them on his bedside table, stripped out of his blue scrubs, and got into the shower. When he was done, he dried off, brushed his teeth, and went back into his bedroom. He put on a pair of clean boxers, but then he paused. Normally he would have climbed into bed and slept for the next twelve hours since he didn’t have to be at work the next day, but now that was the last place he wanted to be.  
  
He wanted to climb in that bed, put his arms around Merlin’s waist, curve his chest against Merlin’s back, and slide into his body, hot and tight. He was handling this the exact same way he had handled David all those years before, allowing Merlin to walk away without stopping him. Arthur didn’t want to give up on Merlin the way he’d given up on David. He was a different person now – people were learning he was gay, learning he had a boyfriend. His mother knew he sometimes shared his bed with another man and he’d offered to have Merlin move into his home. This was not the person who let David leave him; this was a different Arthur, one who wanted to fight for Merlin.  
  
Grabbing his mobile from his bedside table, Arthur found Lance’s number and quickly typed out a text with his thumbs. _I need Gwen’s address ASAP._  
  
Arthur dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He didn’t want to even waste time by putting on socks so he just shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops that he’d bought over the summer when Elena Cosgrove had held a summer barbeque by her pool for all the staff of the Emergency Department.   
  
The reply came as Arthur locked the front door of his house. Arthur looked at the address: _14 Morningside Avenue_. The road seemed very familiar, but he hadn’t never actually been to Gwen’s house before, so he typed back: _I need directions, can you be specific?_ Arthur got into his car and started it up, backing out of the driveway. He knew the general area where Gwen lived, so he turned left and started down the road. His phone rang; it was Lance.  
  
“Your phone has a GPS, you know,” said Lance before Arthur could even say hello.  
  
“You know I don’t know how to use that shit.”  
  
“I know, Merlin told me a story about how you didn’t even know your TV had a guide button that listed all the TV shows on the air.”  
  
“Yeah, I still don’t understand that shit. I don’t watch the telly unless Merlin is home.”  
  
“You’re pathetic. And anyway, Gwen may actually kill me if I give you directions to her house. She just sent me a text that said Merlin was over there . . . something about a big fight with you, so I’m steering clear until things have calmed down. I don’t want to choose sides between my fiancée’s best friend and _my_ best friend.”  
  
“So what are you doing instead?”  
  
“Sitting inside Starbucks. They’re open ‘til eleven here. Think the drama will be over by then?”  
  
“Probably not,” replied Arthur, “if I’m still driving around the bloody city looking for Gwen’s house.”  
  
“All right, all right. You know how to get to Highland Valley Boulevard? Pass by that pub we always go to, Green’s on the Green, and turn left onto Mountain Springs and then the next left is Morningside. Her house will be up a really long driveway, but you can’t miss it. Number fourteen.”  
  
“Thanks,” said Arthur. “I’ll talk to you later.”  
  
“Hey, Arthur?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I hope you work it out.”  
  
“Thanks,” Arthur said again, his voice soft. “I mean it.” He ended the call and focused on driving. He found Gwen’s house easily enough and it was only a short ride from his house. She lived in a more expensive neighborhood, believe it or not, but her house was just a small bungalow, probably no more than two bedrooms. Vines covered the front of the house and it was made of stone, with a large chimney protruding from the back. Everything about the house seemed very much _Gwen_ and Arthur thought it was charming. He parked his car behind Merlin’s in the driveway and walked up the three steps to the front door, ringing the doorbell.  
  
Gwen answered and her eyebrows rose in surprise. She stepped outside and shut the door behind her. “Hello,” she said slowly. “Merlin got here about an hour ago.”  
  
“Right. Good. I want to talk to him.”  
  
“He’s really upset.”  
  
Arthur swallowed against a lump in his throat. “I know. I sort of bollixed everything up, but I want Merlin to come home.”  
  
Gwen sighed. “I think he’s really good for you, Arthur, and he really loves you. But you’re bad for him.”  
  
“Oh. Um.”  
  
“You came, though. I didn’t think you would come. Look, Merlin’s in the living room. I’ll just go for a run. It’s what I was going to do before Merlin showed up.”  
  
For the first time, Arthur noted that Gwen had on workout clothes and trainers. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which was unusual because she usually wore most of it down around her shoulders.  
  
“I’ll go now,” said Gwen. “I’m afraid if I tell Merlin you’re here he may lock himself in the bathroom or something.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Arthur, and he meant it. He let Gwen pass him by and he went inside the house. The walls were painted beige and the floors were dark wood and everything was quiet. The living room was off to the side from the front door and Arthur saw Merlin sitting on the sofa, leaning over, his hands covering his face, his elbows resting on his knees. Arthur’s heart jolted and his body felt heavier, weighted down by his guilt.  
  
He crossed the room and knelt in front of Merlin, lightly touching the side of his knee. Merlin looked up and blinked, at first expressionless and then surprised. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks wet, and his nose red. He sniffed and cleared his throat.  
  
“How are you here?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “You’ve never been to Gwen’s. Did she give you directions?”  
  
“Lance did.”  
  
“Oh. Bastard. Why are you here?”  
  
“I want you to come home. You left and I stood there in my room – _our_ room – and I couldn’t think, like my brain had been shut off. So I took a shower and when I got out, I could only think of you.”  
  
“I think you’re full of shit, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur winced. “I know. I’m sorry for how I’ve been this week.”  
  
“Why were you such a tit?”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. I lost more patients this week than anyone else. Two car accidents, a drive-by shooting, and a heart attack. The patients were never going to make it, no matter who the doctor was – or at least, that’s what Elena told me, but it didn’t make me feel any better. And I guess I’ve always dealt with that kind of stuff on my own. I’ve never come home to anybody and had to retell my stories of my horrible days at hospital. And I didn’t want to, well, burden you, I suppose. I don’t know why I was like that.”  
  
Merlin blinked several times as though he might suddenly open his eyes and Arthur would be gone. “You’re scared of intimacy.”  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
“There is no ‘perhaps.’ There is only truth and I’m giving it to you right now. You’re scared of intimacy and relationships and people finding out. I’m not scared of any of those things.”   
  
Arthur nodded. “Right.” He paused, looking at Merlin. He wanted to wipe away the tears on his cheeks and promise never to hurt him again, promise to be the person Merlin needed him to be. But Arthur knew that was impossible. He knew he was arrogant, thick-headed, and oftentimes broody; he could never be perfect for Merlin – he could only _try_. That’s what he felt he always did, that he always said. Try, try, try, and he’d done a good job, he thought, so far, but he always came up short. He’d never tried so hard in his life for something.  
  
“You know,” began Arthur, “I never had to work for anything before. Even medical school was easy for me. You’re the only thing I’ve had to work for, and I don’t think I am the best at knowing how to keep hold of something that I want. Normally it just stays. In the past, men have left me, but I didn’t want them to stay. I want you to stay, I want you back at my house.”  
  
Merlin’s eyes searched his before looking away. “I don’t know, Arthur. I need some time away. I’m used to go going to gay bars or human rights protests, but I can’t do any of that with you. The things you said to Dr. Valiant. . . . I’m more than just a housemate.”  
  
“You are. _You are_.”  
  
“Let me – just – I need to get my own head straight. I’m going to stay here for a bit.”  
  
Arthur didn’t know what to say or do. “Merlin—”  
  
“No. You can’t charm you way into getting what you want this time.”  
  
“I—”  
  
“Arthur, go. Please.” Merlin stood and pushed past Arthur, going to the side window and looking out, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands resting on his shoulders, as though hugging himself.   
  
Arthur watched Merlin for a moment, hoping he would turn around. When he didn’t, Arthur turned and left the house. He got into his car and drove away. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t want to go home, so he drove around the city, taking out his mobile and calling his sister, needing to talk to somebody so he wouldn’t think of Merlin.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
It was odd putting on his scrubs and going to the hospital over the next week. He went, his motions the same as they ever were, but with a void in his life. It was as though everything was playing out in front of him like a movie reel, motions and dialogue, but Arthur was removed, watching but not participating. He kept waiting for Merlin, waiting to come home after work at the hospital and find him sitting on the sofa, watching television, but it never happened. His house was always empty when he got there. Merlin was never on the loading dock either and Arthur ended up smoking alone, dragging his breaks out until the last second, hoping to run into Merlin.  
  
There was an odd constriction in his chest that week that Arthur had never felt before. It was though his heart was being pulled out of his ribs, his lungs being pushed back, and everything inside him a complete mess.  
  
It became too much after six days of not seeing Merlin, of going home and opening his fridge and seeing Merlin’s beer and the leftover lasagna Merlin had made that Arthur couldn’t bring himself to eat.   
  
Arthur excused himself for a break and took the back stairs to the ICU floor, walking up all five flights of stairs. He used the bar code on the back of his ID badge to open the door to the ICU and walked inside. It was as quiet as always and Arthur looked around for Merlin.  
  
“He’s in room C,” said Freya from behind the nurses’ station.  
  
Arthur turned and looked at her. “Oh. Thanks.”  
  
“Wait for him to finish,” she said. “His patient is a stroke victim and completely confused. The more people who go in there, the more agitated he becomes.” Freya smiled. “Haven’t seen you up here in a while. Merlin’s been in a bad mood all week. I hope you can cheer him up.”  
  
“Me too,” replied Arthur. He looked in the direction of Room C and waited for Merlin to finish.   
  
“Oh!” squeaked Merlin, a little shock of surprise, when he exited the room and spotted Arthur by the desk. “What are you—”  
  
“Is there a place we can talk?” asked Arthur as a nurse and two doctors came out of another one of the ICU rooms.  
  
Merlin glanced around. “Er, I think E is free.”  
  
“No, they’re bringing in one of Lance’s patients to E in a few minutes,” said Freya. “But A is empty.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “All right.” He turned and walked to the first room on the floor. He slid open the glass door and walked inside. Arthur shut the door behind him. He could feel the eyes of the other doctors and nurses on them, probably vaguely wondering what was happening.  
  
“I’m done waiting,” said Arthur. “I can’t do this. I’m a fucking mess and I’ve never been a mess in my life. I can’t fucking _breathe_ without you.”  
  
Merlin swallowed and looked down at his shoes.  
  
Arthur took Merlin’s hand. “This – between us? I need you. If you walk away again, I’ll just walk behind you until you turn around and come back.”  
  
“I feel like I’m hidden,” said Merlin softly. “That you see me, but I’m someone you really only talk about in your sleep, when no one else can hear you. I feel like I’m a secret that you keep locked in your bed, to fuck when you like, but outside of your house I’m invisible. Sometimes you surprise me, come see me on my floor or take oxygen breaks outside, but mostly I feel like my name is always on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow the sound so no one will ever have to know that you know my name.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No, absolutely not true. Merlin, this is complete bollocks, you know? I’ll go to a gay bar every day of the week if you’ll just come back. Whatever you want. _Breathing_ , Merlin. I can’t _breathe_.”  
  
“I wondered if you’d come after me.”  
  
“Always. I’ll always come after you.” His throat felt raw as he said it.  
  
Merlin smiled, but it looked sad, a little bit forced. Arthur leaned forward and kissed his smile. Merlin gasped a little under the pressure of Arthur’s mouth on his, but he pressed his mouth closer to Arthur’s, opening his lips. Arthur grasped the back of Merlin’s neck as though holding him in place. His fingers dug into the sharp angle of Merlin’s hip.   
  
“Wait,” said Merlin, pulling back. He laughed. “I don’t want to get sacked for fucking a doctor in an empty hospital room.”  
  
“Right,” said Arthur. “Will you come home tonight?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Promise never to leave again?”  
  
Merlin smiled. “No. Promise to come after me if I do?”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Once Merlin was back, they fell into an ease. Their schedules were still crazy and sometimes they would go days without seeing the other awake. There was still a comfort in falling asleep next to Merlin or knowing that when he woke up Merlin would be there at _home_.  
  
September ended and a week into October, they sat down one night with bottles of imported beer and flipped through the television stations. During a commercial, Merlin turned towards Arthur on the sofa, a very serious look on his face.  
  
“I was thinking . . .”  
  
“Yeah?” prompted Arthur, sitting up straight and completely unsure of what Merlin was going to say.  
  
“Well, I was thinking we should both get tested.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
Merlin smirked. “For STD’s.”  
  
“I don’t have any.”  
  
“You don’t _know_ that for certain without a test.”  
  
“I’ve never been with anyone who's had a disease.”  
  
“That you know of,” said Merlin. “You had loads of one-offs, didn’t you? I bet you can’t even remember all of their names. Which means you need to get a test. I’m sure you’re clean, too, but this will just confirm it.”  
  
“What if . . .”  
  
“What if they find something?” asked Merlin softly. “Then we’ll keep using the condoms. But I’m sure the tests will be negative.”  
  
“Oh. All right . . .”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “You’re such a bad homosexual, Arthur, really. I’m certain I’m clean, but a test would just confirm it and if you get one and you’re clean, too, then we can stop using condoms. Because I trust you not to cheat on me.”  
  
“Oh,” said Arthur. Then, with a smile, “That’s brilliant. I wouldn’t cheat on you. I think of myself as a loyal person.”  
  
“I know,” replied Merlin. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, either.”  
  
Arthur laughed at the thought. “I know, I would never question that. I guess I’ve never thought of having sex with you without, you know, condoms.”  
  
“Never? I want to feel our bodies together without anything separating us, but I want it to be safe. If we’re going to stay together for a while then I don’t want to be buying condoms every week.”  
  
“Of course we’re going to stay together for a while, no question. Yeah, all right, I’ll get a nurse to do a test this week.”  
  
Merlin smiled and it was settled.  
  
October also brought with it party invitations for several different Halloween parties. Merlin wanted to go to Gwen’s, and Arthur needed to make an appearance at Elena Cosgrove’s, so they compromised. They went to Elena’s first, Arthur insisting they go together. Merlin smiled and kissed him, knowing it would be their first time out together at a hospital function. They went to Elena’s for an hour before excusing themselves and ending the night at Gwen’s, where they got so trashed they ended up sleeping on her kitchen floor, completely unsure how they ended up there.  
  
Once October ended, Arthur was packing his bags to head to England for his sister’s wedding. Merlin drove him to the airport and held out his hand for Arthur to shake.  
  
“I know you don’t like kissing in public,” said Merlin with a smirk, “but I’ll miss you.”  
  
“You too,” replied Arthur, torn between kissing Merlin and not. He hugged Merlin instead and said goodbye. He was halfway through the security line when his phone vibrated in his pocket.  
  
_i’ll miss u. be prepared to be gloriously fucked when u get home_  
  
Arthur laughed and felt something swell inside his chest.   
  
The flight was long, but Arthur slept most of the way. As per their usual custom, Morgana picked Arthur up from the airport. She hugged him tightly, the smile on her face the biggest and brightest Arthur had ever seen. It was early morning in London and even though Arthur was tired, he knew his mother would insist on feeding him breakfast as soon as he walked in the door. Morgana took the long way home to their parents’ house, giving them the chance to catch-up.  
  
“How’s Merlin?” she asked after they had exhausted the topic of her wedding.  
  
“He’s great.”  
  
“Really? Because that phone call—”  
  
“I thought we were going to break up,” said Arthur, “but we didn’t, and now it’s the thing we don’t talk about. Things are really great, actually. We’ll be together a year after Christmas. We already decided to stay home, get a tree, and maybe have a party at the house on Christmas Eve.”  
  
“That sounds lovely,” said Morgana honestly.   
  
“Ready to get married?”  
  
Morgana pulled into the drive at their parents’ house. “I have a secret. No one knows, not even Leon.”  
  
“You’re going to leave him at the altar?”  
  
Morgana sniggered. “Hardly. But…I’m going to have a baby.”  
  
Arthur froze, his eyes growing wide. “You’re fucking with me.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“How far along?”  
  
“I haven’t even been to the doctor yet, just took one of those tests from the store.” Morgana grinned. “I’m excited. Not exactly how I’d planned everything, but . . .”  
  
“And Mum and Dad?”  
  
“I’ll tell them it happened on the honeymoon.”  
  
“Wise.”  
  
“Leon doesn’t know. I plan on telling him tonight after dinner. That way he’ll have a couple days before the wedding to get used to the idea.”  
  
“Think he’ll be happy?”  
  
“Yes. It’s a boy,” said Morgana. “I can _feel_ it. Ready to face Mum and Dad?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Me neither. Let’s go.”  
  
Arthur grabbed his bags from the boot of Morgana’s car and went to the front door. His mother had opened it before he had the chance to turn the doorknob, throwing her arms around him. She ushered him inside, and he dropped his bags by the door and walked with her through the house to the back kitchen. His father sat at the round table in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea and reading the morning newspaper. He looked up as Arthur entered, followed by Ygraine and Morgana.  
  
“Arthur,” said Uther, “glad to have you home.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”  
  
“Sit down. Have some breakfast. Want some tea?”  
  
“No,” said Arthur, “I prefer coffee.”  
  
Morgana sat next to him and gave him a sympathetic look as Ygraine puttered around the kitchen, gathering up plates and mugs for breakfast and tea. She set a cup of black tea in front of Arthur who looked at it and resisted the urge roll his eyes. Once breakfast was laid out in front of everyone at the table, Ygraine sat down and told everyone to eat.  
  
“Tonight the Penningtons wanted you to come over for dinner,” said Uther, looking at Arthur.  
  
“Oh. I need to take a nap. The time difference . . . jetlag . . . but okay.”  
  
“Did you ever meet their boarder?” asked Uther. “She’s a doctor at Camelot Hospital.”  
  
“No.” Arthur shoveled his eggs into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk.  
  
“Leon and I wanted to know if you’d make a speech at our reception,” said Morgana, looking hopeful. “It’d mean a lot to me if you did. You know, we decided to only have one bridesmaid and one best man, but you’re my brother.” She smiled.  
  
“Vivian is coming,” said Ygraine, “and she said she’d love to be your date.”  
  
Arthur faltered, fork halfway to his mouth. “I’d love to give a speech at your wedding. I’ll have to think of something good to say.” He completely ignored his mother.   
  
“Great. Leon will be happy. His best man isn’t the most eloquent speaker, but I think you are.”  
  
“Arthur’s a natural leader,” said Uther, “so being a natural public speaker is in his genes. Did you hear your mother about Vivian?”  
  
“Yes,” said Arthur. “I don’t need a date to Morgana’s wedding. You don’t care if I don’t have a date, do you?”  
  
Morgana shook her head. “I’m just happy you’re here now since I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”  
  
“You’ll see him at Christmas,” said Ygraine. She looked at her son. “Right?”  
  
“No,” said Arthur slowly, steeling himself for an argument. “I’ll be spending Christmas at home this year.”  
  
“ _This_ is your home,” snapped Uther, slamming his fist down on the table. “And you can’t go to your sister’s wedding without a date. What do you think everyone would think?”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know.” Under his breath he murmured, “And Merlin wouldn’t like it if I had a date.”  
  
Morgana sniggered and smiled at Arthur.  
  
“What was that?” asked Ygraine.  
  
Arthur thought of Merlin sitting at home, the television turned onto those terrible reality shows he loved but always denied watching. It sent a jolt of electricity through his veins, powering something significant inside him.  
  
“I said,” repeated Arthur, “that I don’t think Merlin would like it if I had a date to Morgana’s wedding.”  
  
“Who is Merlin?” asked Uther, looking curious.  
  
Ygraine looked deadly.  
  
“The man who lives with me,” replied Arthur.  
  
Uther glanced at Ygraine who was staring daggers at Arthur. “When did you get a housemate?”  
  
“He moved in over the summer. Morgana, will you pass the blackberry preserves?”  
  
“Wait,” said Uther. “Who the hell is Merlin?”  
  
“The man who lives with me,” Arthur repeated slowly.  
  
“When did you get a housemate?”  
  
“Is there an echo in here?” asked Morgana playfully, but the expression on her face was steel; she was sitting on the edge of her seat, looking ready to run for cover if necessary.  
  
“Shut up, Morgana,” snapped Uther. “Why did you get a housemate? If you’re lonely, get a dog. Or better, move the bloody hell back home.”  
  
“I wasn’t lonely.”  
  
“Then why—?”  
  
“Because I wanted him to move in with me.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” said Uther, looking to Ygraine for help.  
  
“What’s there not to understand?” asked Arthur, exasperated. “Merlin used to be over at my house almost every day anyway, and his landlord sold the building where his flat was so I told him just to move in with me. It made sense.”  
  
“He should have got a new flat,” said Ygraine, finally speaking up, “instead of cadging off you.”  
  
“Whoa!” cried Arthur. “That is _not_ what Merlin does. He pays for his share of the house, the utility bills. I told him he didn’t have to pay me anything, but he insisted.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t you make him pay to live at your house?” asked Uther. “I am confused.”  
  
“Because I don’t need any help paying my bills. He lives with me because I _want_ him to. You know, Dad, I’m rather shocked Mum hasn’t mentioned Merlin before.”  
  
“Why would she?”  
  
“She’s spoken to him on the phone before when she’s rung my house.”  
  
Ygraine dropped her fork. “How dare you.”  
  
“It’s true,” said Arthur with forced calmness. “You’ve spoken with him. Last time you two spoke, you woke us up and you seemed rather concerned that Merlin was asleep in my bed.”  
  
Uther rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. “Are you saying – are you _fucking saying_ – that this – this – this _Merlin_ is not your housemate, but your – your—”  
  
“Shag mate?” supplied Morgana with a ton that was too innocent to be genuine.  
  
Uther slammed both his fists down on the table so hard that the table vibrated, knocking their utensils together and sloshing their tea onto the tablecloth. His face was red, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. The look in his eye was murderous.  
  
“And I suppose you knew this?” he asked, staring at his daughter.  
  
Morgana held her head high. “Yes, I’ve known for a while that Arthur is gay.”  
  
Ygraine let out a sob and covered her face in her hands.  
  
“Don’t use that word in my house,” said Uther, his voice low and raw. His eyes slowly turned from Morgana to Arthur. “How long have you known this _Merlin_?”  
  
“He works at the hospital; he’s a nurse. I met him when I first started my internship in the ED.”  
  
“And he turned you gay?”  
  
Arthur’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said through clenched teeth, “he didn’t. He has nothing to do with me liking men. Nothing.”  
  
“And how long have you _liked men_?” roared Uther.  
  
“I knew while I was at St. Paul’s. I slept with Vivian when I was seventeen and I didn’t like it. I also slept with one of my football mates and _did_ like it. So that pretty much told me all I needed to know.”  
  
“One of your team mates?” Uther clenched his hands into tight fists. “When you were seventeen?”  
  
“No, that was when I was sixteen.” Arthur sat back in his chair, feeling defiant. “I couldn’t help it then, just as I can’t help it now.”  
  
“I told you to stop this nonsense,” wailed Ygraine. “I told you to grow up and get out of this _ridiculous_ phase. I want grandchildren. How are you supposed to give me grandchildren?”  
  
“I can give you grandchildren,” said Morgana, exasperatedly. “I am your other child, you know, even though you both prefer to pretend Arthur is the golden one and I’m just this girl who just happened to live with you while she grew up.”  
  
“Oh, Morgana, shut up,” said Uther, rolling his eyes. “You are so dramatic. It grates on my nerves.”  
  
“Look,” said Arthur, his voice rising, “you want me to get married, but I’ve always told you I’m not the marrying kind. I don’t want to be with a woman. I’m happy with Merlin. He makes me happy. He’s clever and really good at his job. He’s a better nurse than I am doctor. If you met him—”  
  
“I forbid you to ever bring him to this house!” snarled Uther. “No son of mine is gay!”  
  
“But _I am_! Jesus fucking Christ, I’ve been trying to tell you both for years, but you never bloody listen to me! Mum knew, why don’t you yell at her for a while? If she says she didn’t know then she’s lying to you. You’re so focused on me living out _your_ life, Dad, that you never once stopped to think about what _I_ wanted. And I want the life I have. I fucking _hate England_. I like the States. I like my public hospital where people who get stabbed in their bloody eyes go because it’s real and it’s brutal and it’s _honest_. It’s not like Camelot with its rows and rows of mansions and its hospital full of plastic surgeons or people waiting for liver transplants because they drank too much brandy. Everything about it is real and I like it, I’m happy – and you should have been more concerned with what makes me happy than with whether I’d come back and live out _your life_. I’m Arthur, not Uther. I never wanted to be Uther.”  
  
Uther was silent, his body trembling from obvious anger. Ygraine still sat across the table, tears streaming down her face, her eyes red and swollen.  
  
“You’ve only ever thought about yourself,” said Ygraine. “What do you think this will do to us, to me? What will I tell my friends? They always ask me if you’ve met a nice girl yet.”  
  
“Tell them the truth. That I’ve met a nice man.”  
  
Fresh tears leaked from Ygraine’s eyes. “My entire life, I’ve imagined you getting married and having children, especially a boy who would grow up and be a doctor, just like you, just like your father. Carry out the Pendragon legacy.”  
  
“If I want children, I can adopt them,” replied Arthur.  
  
“Oh, sure, and when my friends want to see photos, I pull out what exactly? Happy family portrait of you and a bunch of kids of varying races all posing with your _gay lover?_ ”  
  
“I’ve never given any thought to actually adopting, but yeah, sure, who the fuck cares if my non-existent children aren’t white? And we’d pose for photos with my gay lover, but I call him my boyfriend or my partner. No one uses the word ‘lover’ anymore. Christ, Mum, get a grip.”  
  
“ _Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that_ ,” said Uther so dangerously Arthur actually reeled back.  
  
“Mum,” said Arthur, purposefully not meeting his father’s eye, “you are so focused on what this is doing to _you_ , but you haven’t stopped to think what this has done to me. How I’ve had to deal with coming to terms with being gay. I’ve lost years where I could’ve been happy because I was too scared to admit to myself who I really was. I almost lost Merlin because of it, but he’s been patient and waited for me. I’m extremely lucky to have him in my life. None of this is about you. In fact, I can’t believe we’re actually yelling about this when, in two days, Morgana is getting married. We should be talking about her wedding instead.”  
  
“We’re not talking about Morgana’s wedding,” said Uther. “Who cares about the wedding right now, not when—”  
  
“Fuck you,” said Morgana, her voice low but just loud enough for Uther to hear her and immediately stop talking.  
  
“What did you say?” he asked.  
  
“You heard me,” said Morgana, lifting her head. “You’re yelling at Arthur for no reason. He’s the exact same person he’s always been. Who cares if he’s gay? No one other than the two of you. I certainly don’t care. And how dare you say, ‘who cares about the wedding,’ because _I_ care about the wedding. Arthur cares. The last month you’ve both been more concerned with finding Arthur a date to my wedding that you haven’t once stopped and asked how I’m doing.”  
  
“What on earth are you on about?” asked Ygraine.  
  
“Maybe I’m nervous or scared to get married, but you’ve never asked. I’ve been throwing up every morning, sick to my stomach, but you’ve never asked why I’m so ill. It’s always about Arthur. When is he coming home? When is he moving back? Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? What is wrong that he never calls? He’s a million kilometers away and you talk about him more than you talk about me and I’m _right here_.”  
  
“Morgana—” began Uther.  
  
“No,” interrupted Morgana, “ _I’m_ talking now. You’ll listen to _me_ for a change. You’re so worried about Arthur getting married one day, but I’m getting married now. Why isn’t that good enough for you? You’re both worried about grandchildren and have been for ages, but I’m going to give you grandchildren and I don’t know why that isn’t good enough for you either.”  
  
“You’re not giving us grandchildren yet—”  
  
“Yes, I am!” yelled Morgana. “I’m pregnant.”  
  
The silence that followed was punctuated by the heaviness of Morgana’s breath. She looked down at her plate of cold eggs and sausages and rubbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears that had suddenly appeared. Arthur reached under the table and took hold of his sister’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  
  
Uther stood up, his hands on the table, and leaned forward, staring at both his children. “Get. Out.”  
  
“What?” said Arthur, not sure he had heard his father right.  
  
“Get. Out. Both of you. Now.”  
  
“Are you kidding?” asked Arthur.  
  
“My son is not gay,” said Uther, “therefore, you’re not my son.” He turned to Morgana. “And my daughter is not pregnant before she’s even married and my daughter certainly would not keep something as serious as her brother’s homosexuality a secret. Neither of you are my children. Therefore. Get out of my house.”  
  
“I’ve been back in this house for less than two hours. My return ticket isn’t for another four days.”  
  
Uther shook his head. “Not my problem.”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat and stood. “Fine. Take a good look at me, because this will probably be the last time you ever see me.” He pushed his chair back and left the kitchen, going back through the house towards the front door. He grabbed his bags and walked outside. He took out his mobile and looked at it, but of course it never worked when he was in Camelot.   
  
“FUCK!” yelled Arthur. He resisted the urge to throw his phone. All he could think of was Merlin and how Merlin would know exactly how to make him feel better.  
  
From behind him, he heard Morgana’s voice. It was tight and raw, the voice of someone who had clearly been crying. She slammed the front door behind her.  
  
“Yes, eloping . . . no, I’m not joking . . . whenever . . . tonight? Arthur could be a witness, he was disowned as well . . . we’re orphans . . . fucking ridiculous, never in my life . . . well, before we elope I need to speak with you about something important . . . yes, more important than getting married . . . I don’t know where we’ll stay . . . no, I think we should go to a hotel, Arthur would be more comfortable in a hotel, I think, he’s very posh, you know . . .”  
  
Arthur smirked and put his arm around his sister as she talked. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
“I’ll text you the hotel when we’ve figured it out. I love you.”  
  
“You didn’t have to go,” said Arthur when Morgana ended her call. “I mean, I heard Dad, but you could have stayed, tried to salvage things.”  
  
“I asked them if they were going to come to my wedding and they both said no. So fuck them. We’ll elope and then not have to deal with anybody. Will you come, though, and be a witness? We’ll do it tonight. We have our tickets and hotel reservations for our honeymoon and we can still go to that, but we’ll just sneak away and not tell anybody. Is that horrible?”  
  
“No. I don’t know why you would want to get married anyway. Our parents always looked miserable together.”  
  
“Which is why they’re perfect for one another.” Morgana sighed. “Arthur, will you do me a favor?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“ _Please_ adopt a bunch of black and Chinese babies and send Mum loads of photographs, just to piss her off.”  
  
Arthur paused and searched Morgana’s eyes before laughing out loud.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Thirty-six hours after leaving for Camelot, Arthur was back in the States, waiting for his bag at baggage claim, and trying to call Merlin to see where he was. He got voicemail which always meant Merlin was either at work or sleeping. Less than thirty seconds after he called, his mobile beeped with a new text message:  
  
_cant answer sitting with a patient who has sleep apnoea. waiting for a cpap. dont want to talk and wake her up, took her forever to fall asleep in the 1st place. MISS U._  
  
Arthur smiled. He would take a taxi home to drop off his bags and pick up his car, then he’d drive to the hospital to see Merlin. The need to see Merlin was overwhelming and he bounced from foot to foot in anticipation as he waited for his bags. A new message beeped on his phone: _i didn’t think ur phone worked in the motherland?_ Arthur laughed out loud and shoved his phone back in his pocket without replying.  
  
It didn’t take too long to get home and get his car. He only went inside his house long enough to toss his bags into his entryway before turning around and immediately going to his car. He had tried not to think too much about his parents, about the way his father yelled or his mother cried. He didn’t want to think about the implications to being disowned or the emotions that flared inside his chest whenever he thought of the look in his father’s eye as he yelled ' _Get out_.'  
  
Arthur went to ICU first, but one of the nurses said Merlin was downstairs in the cafeteria. Arthur thanked him and took the elevator back down to the ground floor to search for Merlin. It was dinnertime, although Arthur’s body was so disoriented with the drastic time changes that he had no idea if it was dawn or dusk.  
  
He spotted Merlin sitting with two familiar faces: Gwaine and a tech from radiology who Arthur had been introduced to but whose name he could never remember. Arthur walked over to the table, catching Merlin’s eyes as he weaved in and out of the other tables.  
  
Merlin did a double take before standing, the look on his face a mixture of confusion and surprise.  
  
“Hi,” said Arthur.  
  
“You’re supposed to be in England. I dropped you at the airport.”  
  
“I know. Unbelievable story which ends in tragedy. And I missed you.”  
  
Merlin inched away from the table and the prying ears of his friends. He lowered his voice. “I missed you, too.”  
  
Arthur looked at him, his messy hair that tried desperately to cover his large ears. The scruff on his face that needed trimming, the gray shirt that peaked out from underneath his green scrubs. The way he stood, the sharp angles of his hips, the paint splatter on his trainers from god-knows-what. The weird leather bracelet he wore that accentuated how painfully thin his wrists were. Ah, _those wrists_. Arthur curled his fingers around Merlin’s wrist, loosely, lightly, and tugged Merlin closer. He leaned forward, his lips just a breath away from Merlin’s. Then he kissed him. It was more reckless than the kiss in the ICU; this one the entire cafeteria could see. It was public, a display, and Arthur had no idea what had made him so careless.  
  
He pulled away slowly, careful not to look anywhere but Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were wider than normal, but a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, though he forced his expression to stay as neutral as possible.  
  
“Er,” said Arthur. “Well. I missed you.”  
  
“You said that already. Please tell me you didn’t miss your sister’s wedding because you missed me.”  
  
“No, she got married last night.”  
  
“I thought the wedding was Saturday.”  
  
“It was. She eloped. After we were both disowned by our parents.”  
  
“Clearly you’re leaving out some important details.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “How much longer do you have before you go upstairs?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Half our rooms are empty, amazingly. Come on.”   
  
Merlin took Arthur’s hand and led him out of the cafeteria. The November air was freezing outside, so they stayed in the corridor instead of going to the loading dock, which was Arthur’s first instinct. He told Merlin everything, beginning with Morgana picking him up from the airport and ending with being a witness to her elopement. Merlin listened without interruption, his eyes slowly growing wider and his jaw dropping lower and lower as Arthur told him everything his parents said. When Arthur finished, Merlin just shook his head.   
  
“I knew your parents would take it hard,” said Merlin, “but I never thought . . .” He shook his head again.  
  
“And now I’m back here and I had to see you and tell you. When I was in Camelot, I thought of you and, well, I don’t know. I guess thinking of you gave me the courage to finally tell my parents the truth, but everything that followed? I don’t know. And then I came here and kissed you in front of all those people. Oh, shit. I just outed myself to the entire hospital. I may have a nervous breakdown.”  
  
“Arthur, calm down.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Sorry.”  
  
“I’m glad you came to me and told me this.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have told anyone before I met you. I guess you saved me enough I feel like I can lean on you and I’m feeling very uncertain right now.”  
  
“I wish I didn’t have to finish out my shift so I could come home with you, but you look exhausted. I’ll be home by ten tonight, all right?”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“Get some rest so I can fuck your brains out when I get home.”  
  
“Ah, I love when you talk so sweetly to me.”  
  
Merlin grinned. He pushed Arthur up against the wall and kissed him, prying open Arthur’s mouth with his tongue. The kiss was hot, wet, and dirty. Merlin pressed his body against Arthur’s, inserting his knee between Arthur’s thighs, slowly grinding their bodies together. As quickly as he started, Merlin pulled away.  
  
“A preview.”  
  
“Oh shit,” said Arthur, wishing they could fuck against the wall right then.  
  
“I know sex always makes you feel better. I like chicken soup and a good cuddle, but the masculine inside you would die if I tried to spoon you.”  
  
Arthur smiled. “You know me too well.”  
  
Merlin flushed and looked down at his shoes. “I really wish I could keep talking, but I have to get back upstairs.” He lifted his head and looked at Arthur. “Thanks for coming and talking to me instead of going home and letting all your emotions boil and fester inside of you.”  
  
“Of course,” replied Arthur. He watched Merlin turn and go back towards the lifts before he left himself to go home. Even though he hadn’t been gone long, it felt great to be home. Everything about Camelot felt so wrong and perhaps he was selling his country short by leaving it, and the entire continent, behind, but he didn’t think he could ever feel truly at home at a place where his parents could throw him out of the house like that.   
  
His feet shuffled against the hardwood floors as he walked up the stairs and down the hallway. His flipped the light switch on in the bedroom and tried to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. He toed off his shoes and put them in the walk-in closet. His fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, but he managed to strip and throw his clothes in the hamper. He closed the closet door and paused.  
  
On his forefinger was the ring his father had given him when he was fourteen. He rarely thought about it and part of him was surprised he still wore it. He never felt a huge connection to his parents or his lineage, but somehow he kept putting the ring on his hand every morning. Arthur sighed and took the ring off; he didn’t want to look at it anymore. Everything about it made him sick.   
  
He padded down the stairs and opened up the back door. His back deck was large and overlooked a grassy back garden full of trees. Even though he was only in his boxers, Arthur walked outside. He held the ring in his palm of his hand looked down at it, feeling anger, resentment, and sadness build up inside him, tearing at his guts and making him feel physically ill. He curled his fingers around the ring, pulled his hand back, and threw the ring as far as he could into the grass and bushes. As quick as he could, he turned around so he wouldn’t see where the ring landed. Then he went back inside, slamming the door shut and throwing the lock.  
  
His lungs expanded as he took a large breath and as he slowly breathed out, he felt some of his anger begin to dissipate. He went back upstairs and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over him and shutting out the rest of the world.  
  
  


**__________**

For the first time in his entire life, Arthur didn’t buy or send a single Christmas card. His parents always made them sit for a family portrait that they had printed onto a hundred Christmas cards that his mother sent to various friends and family. When Arthur moved to New York for medical school, his mother sent him an email with everyone’s addresses and Arthur sent his own cards out, mostly because he knew his mother would ask _everybody_ if they’d received Arthur’s Christmas messages. This year, though, Arthur didn’t buy a single card and it felt liberating.  
  
Merlin and Arthur both worked at the hospital on Thanksgiving since they didn’t care about celebrating an American holiday. On the first of December, they went and picked out a Christmas tree. Arthur let Merlin pick it out and they tied it to the top of Arthur’s car. Then they went to the store and bought ornaments and decorations since neither of them had any of their own. They chose ornaments with excessively bright colors, which Arthur wasn’t sure he liked because it wasn’t “traditional,” but Merlin was so excited he couldn’t say no.  
  
“Now all it needs is presents,” said Merlin, admiring their work later that night when their tree was up and decorated. He turned on the lights and stood back. “Brilliant.”  
  
Arthur kissed him then because he couldn’t _not_ kiss him. He pulled them down onto the sofa and pressed his body against Merlin’s. His hands roamed over the top of Merlin’s long-sleeved t-shirt. He lifted it up only to find another t-shirt underneath.  
  
“How many layers are you wearing today?”  
  
“Four.”  
  
Arthur laughed into Merlin’s neck. “Too many. Take them off.”  
  
“I can’t. You’re on top of me.”  
  
Arthur sat up and watched with hungry eyes as Merlin took off all his shirts. He stood and toed off his shoes and socks before undoing his jeans and taking them off. Arthur looked at him, naked in front of him, the flat of his chest and stomach, his half-hard cock between his thighs. Merlin took himself in his hand and stroked slowly, his eyes boring into Arthur’s.  
  
Arthur undressed quickly, anxious to feel Merlin’s skin against his own. Merlin kneeled on the sofa and leaned over Arthur. Their mouths touched, lightly at first and then hungrier, messier, wetter. Merlin kissed Arthur’s jaw then his neck. His lips moved across his shoulders then chest. His hands pushed Arthur’s legs apart and he settled between his thighs as he continued to love on Arthur’s body with his mouth. When he got to his stomach, Merlin slid further down the sofa and opened his mouth to take in Arthur’s cock.  
  
“What’s wrong?” asked Arthur when Merlin stopped and sat up.  
  
Arthur’s body was covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart beating fast in anticipation, his eyes hazy and unfocused. He tried to focus, but when his body was aroused, he found it hard to do anything but touch Merlin and make their bodies feel good.  
  
“Hold on.” Merlin turned and raced up the stairs. He was back in a matter of seconds, the lube that he bought in his hand. Arthur was too embarrassed to buy it so it was up to Merlin to keep them in stock. “Did you get the results of your test?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“I’m clean.”  
  
“Me too.” Merlin’s grin was wide; his expression reminded Arthur of a little kid in a toy store, eager and excited.  
  
Arthur nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ve never . . .”  
  
“Never what?” asked Merlin, licking Arthur’s collar bone.  
  
“Fucked without a condom.”  
  
Merlin smiled then brushed his lips against Arthur’s as he spoke, “I want you to lick your way down my body and suck my cock as you put your slick fingers up inside me, opening me up until I’m ready for you to fuck me. How’s that sound?”  
  
Arthur nodded again, this time mute. He’d agree to just about anything for Merlin. He pushed Merlin back on the sofa and climbed over him, kissing his mouth, then his neck and down his body until he was settled between his thighs. He grabbed the bottle of lubricant Merlin had brought downstairs and put some on his fingers. Whenever he made love to Merlin with his mouth, he felt empowered, reducing Merlin to gasps and moans.  
  
Merlin’s fingers tangled themselves in Arthur’s hair as Arthur ran his tongue along Merlin’s length. His fingers opened Merlin up, stretching him, working him open, preparing. Merlin rolled his hips, pressing up into Arthur’s mouth, silently begging to be fucked more, harder. Arthur ground his own hips into the sofa, relishing the friction against his own hardness.  
  
“Okay, okay,” panted Merlin. “Want – now – please.”  
  
Arthur removed his fingers from Merlin and moved up and over his body until they were eyelevel. He kissed Merlin’s mouth, biting his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Merlin’s moan vibrated into Arthur’s mouth.   
  
Arthur grabbed the backs of Merlin’s knees, opening his legs more and pushing them up towards Merlin’s chest. He was open now, body vulnerable, ready for Arthur. Arthur dropped one of his hands back to Merlin’s arse and ran his still-slick fingers between his cheeks. Then, slowly, he slid inside Merlin, filling him.  
  
Merlin gasped and moaned and reached for his own cock, pumping it as Arthur thrust inside him. This feeling was overwhelming, knowing there wasn’t a thin layer of latex separating them and being able to feel _Merlin_ tight around him. It was _them_ , together, bodies fully joined, fitted. Arthur gasped and slowed his movements, trying to catch his breath.  
  
“What’s wrong?” asked Merlin.  
  
“Nothing,” said Arthur. “Just us.”  
  
Merlin seemed to understand for he was suddenly grabbing at Arthur’s shoulders, dragging him down and kissing him. Then he felt Merlin’s hand stroking himself again between their bodies.  
  
Arthur came quickly, spilling out inside Merlin. Merlin was right behind him, his own come trapped between their bodies. Neither of them spoke, allowing their heart rates to return to normal, letting themselves calm.  
  
“Perfect,” murmured Merlin. “Never again with the condoms.”  
  
Arthur nodded into Merlin’s neck, agreeing. It was an overwhelming feeling, knowing they could be this intimate, with nothing separating them, having loyalty that was this fierce. Something raw pulled at Arthur’s heart and he choked on his own breath. But when Merlin touched his jaw, guiding his mouth towards his, Arthur just kissed him and kept his feelings inside.  
  
They didn’t move from the sofa, despite being sticky, and Arthur watched the colored lights bathe them both in red and blue and yellow.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**25 December**  
  
When Merlin woke the next morning, Arthur was already out of bed. He looked around for his pajama bottoms and found them slung over the back of the chair. He put them on along with a t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt. When he went downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to hear his mum and Arthur talking in the kitchen.  
  
“Happy Christmas,” said Merlin, feeling happy and light, lighter than he had since he first began dating Arthur. He grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee. When he sat next to Arthur at the small kitchen table, he placed a hand on his thigh and grinned.  
  
“You look happier this morning than you were yesterday,” Hunith said, her eyes watering. “I’m so glad you’re home.”  
  
“Me too,” said Merlin, and this time, it wasn’t a lie.  
  
“Are you going to see your sister?” Hunith asked, looking at Arthur.  
  
“No, she’s a little far away for us – I think about three hours by car – but she and her husband and my nephew are going to visit at the New Year for a couple weeks.”  
  
“That’s lovely,” said Hunith. “I know Merlin really fancied that baby!”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes.  
  
“I have a couple of presents for both of you. Do you have any to put under the tree?”  
  
“No,” said Arthur, “we agreed not to bring any here because we’d just have to take them back home, so we opened most of ours back home.”  
  
Hunith smiled. “I understand.”  
  
“We do have a couple for you,” said Merlin.   
  
“I already brought them downstairs. They’re under the tree. Do you want me to bring them in here?”  
  
“No, no,” said Hunith. “We’ll go into the living room.”  
  
They took their mugs and went into the living room. Arthur held back for a moment, grabbing Merlin’s arm. He smiled at him and Merlin felt his heart skip. Arthur brought Merlin’s hand to his mouth and kissed the ring he wore before kissing Merlin’s mouth.  
  
“Happy Christmas, Merlin,” said Arthur.  
  
They opened their gifts under the light of the tree and the sunlight that came through the large window. Hunith gave them both new scarves and gloves. For Merlin, she gave him a new book and for Arthur she gave a lovely set of new pens.  
  
“Because Merlin said you always lose your pens when you’re at hospital,” explained Hunith.  
  
“They’re lovely, thank you.”  
  
Hunith opened her gifts as well, admonishing them both for even bringing her anything when just having them there was enough of a Christmas present for her.  
  
Afterwards, Arthur stood and said, “Wait, I have one more.”   
  
Merlin watched him, curious. “But we didn’t—”  
  
“I know, but this is from me,” said Arthur, lightly touching Merlin’s shoulder and he took an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Hunith.  
  
Merlin watched his mother tear open the envelope and look inside. When she gasped, he grabbed Arthur’s wrist and looked at him questioningly.   
  
“Oh, _Arthur_ ,” she gushed.  
  
“They’re vouchers,” explained Arthur, meeting Merlin’s gaze. “Open plane tickets for your mum so she can come visit whenever she wants, but the airfare is paid for. The catch is they have to be used within one year, but I figured that wouldn’t be a problem.”  
  
Merlin shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. That’s so . . . thoughtful.”  
  
Arthur smirked. “I can be thoughtful when I want to.”  
  
“Well,” began Merlin, “sometimes.”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes, but when Merlin squeezed his hand, Arthur squeezed back.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Hunith refused help from either Merlin or Arthur as she made dinner, which would be ready around four. Will came over with Michelle and Effy around noon.  
  
“This is Michelle, Will’s wife,” introduced Merlin. “And this is Arthur.”  
  
“And _this_ is Effy,” said Will.  
  
Merlin smiled at Effy, Will’s three-year-old daughter. She had curly blonde hair and bright brown eyes. She looked more like Michelle than Will, but she definitely had Will’s disposition.  
  
They spent the afternoon drinking beer and wine and reminiscing the past. Merlin knew he was turning bright red when Will told stories of their childhood, of Merlin climbing so high in the tree behind his house that he got stuck and it took three people to get him down, of Merlin falling asleep in maths on top of his blue pen, which leaked all over his cheek and he went through the rest of the school day unaware his face was half ink, of Merlin skiving off class to sneak into the movie theatre, only to get caught and taken home by the police. Arthur laughed at each of the stories and somehow it made Merlin feel even closer to him.  
  
They ate a large dinner, stuffing themselves on ham and potatoes, and drinking more beer and wine. Merlin felt fuzzy and warm and everything was suddenly much more amusing and by the time they cut into the Christmas cake, he was laughing at everything everyone said.  
  
“You’re pissed,” said Arthur. “I can’t take you anywhere.”  
  
Will and Merlin hugged for a long time before Will left. Michelle held a sleeping Effy in her arms as she whispered her goodbyes.   
  
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that ring on your finger,” said Will, his voice low, looking straight at Merlin. “I’m glad for it. Does it mean you’re, like, engaged?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “Somewhere between engaged and married, I suppose. We can’t actually get married in the States, so the ring is just for us.”  
  
“Right.” Will fingered his own wedding ring and smiled. “It’s different. I can’t really explain it, but Michelle and I thought we’d be the same people after getting married, but it’s different somehow. I think it makes us work harder on being happy, because if we fight we know that we have to quickly make up and move on and fix whatever’s wrong, because breaking up when you’re married is so much more difficult than breaking up when you’re just dating. And now we have Effy, and Michelle’s going to have another baby, did I tell you?”  
  
“No!” cried Merlin. “Oh my god, another one? I hope it’s not a boy. England doesn’t need another Will running about.”  
  
“Dunno yet, but I’ll tell you when I know. But kids make it different, too. We work _together_ more now than we ever did before, y’know? Well, I don’t know if you’ll ever have kids, but—”  
  
“We want them,” said Merlin, glancing over at Arthur, who seemed to be involved in his conversation with Michelle just a few feet away. “It’s been mentioned, let’s put it that way.”  
  
“Wow, Merlin, you’re, like, an entirely different person, aren’t you?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I’m still the same. Just older.”  
  
Michelle touched Will’s arm and told him it was time to get Effy home and in bed.  
  
Will turned to Arthur and shook his hand, whispering something to him that Merlin couldn’t overhear. Merlin smiled and waved goodbye as they drove away from Hunith’s house.  
  
“Thank you for coming home with me,” said Merlin.  
  
Arthur put his arm around Merlin’s waist, resting his hand inside the back pocket of Merlin’s jeans.  
  
“I know you didn’t really want to come at first and I didn’t want to come either, but it was all right, wasn’t it?”  
  
“It was great, Merlin.”  
  
“I heard you and Mum talking,” confessed Merlin, “about what happened to me.”  
  
Arthur was silent for a while before saying, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you wanted me to know.”  
  
“I didn’t, but it’s all right. Now you can understand, yeah? It’s why I was so hard on you at first about coming out and being proud of who we are, because when you keep secrets and people find out, the consequences can be terrible. What happened to me was terrible.”  
  
“How long were you in hospital?”  
  
“Twelve days. I only remember the last six, though. The doctors thought I might die for a minute. I don’t like talking about it, but I’m glad you know, really. Now there are no more secrets between us.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No secrets,” he agreed.  
  
“I wish your father would see us, so I could meet him, see where you grew up.”  
  
“I do, too. I wonder what he’d do if we just showed up.” Arthur looked at his watch. “If he didn’t stay home, he’s probably at the Morrisons’. On Christmas Eve, the Penningtons always have a dinner for everyone from Camelot Hospital, and on Christmas Day, my parents would go to the Morrisons' after Morgana and I were in bed. When we were older, we’d sometimes go if we wanted. Dr. Morrison is another cardiologist at Camelot Hospital.”  
  
“Let’s go to the Morrisons’,” said Merlin, not really serious, but in the silence that followed, Merlin thought about the possibility.  
  
“I don’t want to ruin their Christmas,” said Arthur.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“No, I don’t care about my father’s Christmas, but there will be a lot of people over at the Morrisons’. I’d rather not ruin their night. Besides, it’s a four hour drive.”  
  
“Arthur, if you want to go, we can drive there tonight, find a hotel, and you can go over there in the morning and I’ll stay at the hotel.”  
  
“What?” Arthur dropped his arm and turned to face Merlin.  
  
“I mean, I don’t think your father would like me anyway, so I don’t mind staying behind.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. “Oh, fuck that, Merlin. Seriously, I wouldn’t go to him without you. He either accepts both of us or neither of us – trying to make amends without you is not an option.”  
  
Merlin swallowed against an unexpected lump in the middle of his throat. He coughed and nodded, trying to cover up how much Arthur’s words meant to him.  
  
“All right,” he said.  
  
“Is there a place to get a car on Christmas Day?”  
  
“No, but I can ring Will and he’ll let us borrow his,” said Merlin, his voice low, his heart beginning to beat faster. “You say it’s about four hours to Camelot from here? Our flight leaves the day after tomorrow, yeah? We could bring his car back tomorrow night?”  
  
Arthur nodded but was quiet.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
“Let’s do it,” said Arthur, swallowing. “Are we mad?”  
  
“Possibly,” replied Merlin.   
  
“I need to see my father,” said Arthur. “I need to give him the chance to make amends. I’m willing if he is. I wonder if Morgana would want to come . . . although if Leon is working, she’d have to bring Mordred along with her. I don’t know if she wants to subject him to the possible yelling and swearing.”  
  
“I think this would be good for you – after everything your father has done the last three years, this would help you find closure. I know it bothers you the way you’ve left things and it feels unfinished. If you go and give him the chance to explain and apologize, then maybe you can forgive each other. You can’t go to him angry, though, all right? You have to go calm and collected.”  
  
“Don’t try and pretend you’re wise,” said Arthur, cracking a smile.  
  
“I’m not wise,” said Merlin, “but if I think you’re probably just as stubborn as your father, if the stories you’ve told me about him are true – and don’t stand there and deny that you’re not a stubborn arse, because we both know you are.” He ran his hand through Arthur’s hair and cupped his cheek. “You go pack. I’ll call Will and talk to Mum.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Okay.” He went inside and up the stairs.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**Two years ago  
**  
Arthur and Merlin lived together well. Merlin worked hard on keeping a tidier house and Arthur worked on letting the little things go and to not be as uptight. Truthfully, Merlin tried to be neater, but he didn’t have an organized bone in his body. But they both did very well in adapting to one another.  
  
At the hospital, things were as normal as always. Elena Cosgrove took Arthur under her wing and challenged him to become a better doctor. They became fast friends, even though she was his boss, and he even sought her advice on how to successfully balance a personal life and a professional life. Merlin didn’t really like her, but he was always pleasant around her for Arthur’s sake.  
  
Most of the other hospital staff seemed aware of Arthur’s relationship with Merlin, more than even Arthur realized at first. After one particularly horrible car accident had brought in three patients all needing beds in the ICU, a neurologist named Owen had approached Arthur and asked, “Can’t you just go upstairs and ask your boyfriend to move patients up there around? Surely there’s a patient up there who can get downgraded from ICU and open up a bed for one of ours?”  
  
Arthur found it amusing that another doctor thought he could just ring Merlin and ask him to magically make more ICU beds appear.  
  
Time went quickly and soon it had been six months since Morgana had eloped. Merlin and Arthur had both taken off five days for a long weekend and found themselves back in New York City. Normally Arthur refused to go to gay bars, but something about New York made him feel different, more confident in being out, so he agreed, and he and Merlin spent several hours hopping from gay bar to gay bar. A few men approached Arthur, but more tried to pick up Merlin. It stirred up an ugly jealous thing inside Arthur and even though he kept his cool and didn’t get angry, he was shocked at himself – unaware that he even had such a jealous and possessive streak inside him.  
  
“I didn’t like the way those men thought they could buy you drinks,” confessed Arthur. “You’re mine.”  
  
“I would never let them—”  
  
“I know, I trust you, but I didn’t like watching it.”  
  
Merlin smiled. “Thanks for going. We don’t have to go again.”  
  
“Maybe sometimes. But not a lot.”  
  
Merlin nodded and agreed.  
  
They stayed in the same hotel as they had the last time they were in New York and their room overlooked Central Park. This time, their room wasn’t a suite so they didn’t have a balcony. Arthur stood at the large window, stared out at the park, and let his mind wander to thoughts of what it might be like to move back to the city, but this time with Merlin instead of alone.  
  
In the middle of their stay, on the third day, Arthur decided to call home. It had been six months since he’d spoken with his parents. Neither his mother nor his father had tried contacting him, but he had stayed quiet himself. Merlin was still asleep in the king-sized hotel bed when Arthur went into the bathroom and shut the door. He sat on the edge of the tub and called his parents’ house. Nobody answered.   
  
Not sure what to do next, Arthur tapped his mobile against his knee, trying to think. Perhaps they weren’t answering for a reason; perhaps he wasn’t meant to speak to his parents again. Unfortunately, that notion seemed completely absurd to Arthur, because while he didn’t agree with everything his parents did, they were still his parents and he loved them – and they _should_ be on speaking terms. So he dialed his mother’s mobile number and put his phone to his ear.  
  
“ _This number is no longer in service, please check the number and try again._ ”  
  
Arthur looked at his mobile. He still had his mother’s number keyed into his phone so there should be no reason it wouldn’t work. It was very odd. He took a chance and called his father’s office; Uther might still be there since it was still Friday.  
  
A rough female voice answered, a voice didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t unusual for Uther to go through several different receptionists in a year.  
  
“Is Uther Pendragon there?”  
  
“He’s in appointments until the end of the day,” the woman replied. “I can give him a message for you.”  
  
Arthur hesitated and almost said forget it, but he changed his mind at the last moment.  
  
“Yes, please tell him Arthur called . . . his son.”  
  
At the other end of the line there was a very long pause. Then, “Actually, will you please hold?”  
  
“What? Hold?”  
  
“Yes,” replied the woman.  
  
“All right.” Arthur waited, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. What on _earth_ had possessed him to call his father? He should have just waited until later and called home again and waited for his mother to pick up. A conversation with her was bound to go better than any conversation with his father would. Oh god, he was clearly mad; he was about to have a conversation with his father.  
  
After what seemed like several minutes, the line clicked over. “Arthur?”  
  
Arthur’s heart dropped into his stomach – it was the receptionist again.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Well, your father, I suppose, gave me some very specific instructions. He said if a certain man named Melvin is still living at your house, then he cannot speak to you . . .” Her voice trailed off and Arthur was sure she felt as awkward saying this to Arthur as he did hearing it.  
  
“I see,” said Arthur. “Figures my father wouldn’t even get my partner’s name correct.” He sighed. “Thanks. Oh, wait, maybe you can help me with something else.”  
  
“Of course. I’m sorry I couldn’t connect you to your father. Uther is, er . . . well, I don’t know exactly what to say that wouldn’t get me sacked.”  
  
Arthur couldn’t help but laugh, even though it was all rather tragic. “I understand.”  
  
“But yes, I would be glad to help you with whatever else you need.”  
  
“Do you have the phone numbers of my father’s contacts?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I tried calling my mother’s mobile, but the number had been disconnected, so I was curious if you had any updated information for her.”  
  
The silence on the other end of the line was so long, Arthur had to double check his mobile to ensure that he hadn’t lost the connection.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Er,” began the receptionist, “I don’t . . . when was the last time you spoke to your father?”  
  
“Last November,” replied Arthur. “Why?”  
  
“Can you hold again?”  
  
“I guess?” Arthur felt more confused than ever. He stood and went to the oversized mirror that was above the sink. He examined his face and frowned. It had been four days since he last shaved, which was unusual for him. He hoped Merlin remembered to pack his razor because the whiskers growing on his face did not look right. Sighing, he turned around and leaned against the counter, growing more and more annoyed the longer he stayed on hold.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
“Yes?” he said, relieved to hear the receptionist’s voice.  
  
“Your father didn’t want me to tell you this, but he refuses to speak to you while, er, you still live with, um . . .”  
  
“While I still live with my boyfriend,” said Arthur, his voice completely monotone. “It’s all right.”  
  
“Right. Um.”  
  
“Did my father ask you not to give me my mother’s new mobile number?”  
  
“Oh, Arthur,” gasped the receptionist, her voice wavering. “She doesn’t have a new mobile. She – oh I definitely do not get paid enough to tell you this.”  
  
“To tell me what?” asked Arthur, feeling very alarmed. He stood and braced himself against the bathroom counter. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Your father had your mother’s mobile disconnected after she – well, after she died.”  
  
Arthur nearly fell over. His knees gave out and he quickly crashed to the tile floor. “What did you say?”  
  
“She had a stroke – your father didn’t work for almost a month afterwards.”  
  
“When?” whispered Arthur. “When did this happen?”  
  
“Back in February. I’m so, so, _so_ sorry. I had no idea you didn’t know. She’s buried in St. Stephen’s Church.”  
  
“I have to go,” said Arthur. “Thanks, I think.” Arthur dropped his mobile next to him on the floor and rubbed his eyes. This was absolutely the most _fucked up_ thing Uther Pendragon had ever done. It was May and his mother had supposedly died in _February_. “This is not fucking happening,” Arthur mumbled to himself. If his mother was dead, Morgana would have found out and would have called him. This was probably Uther’s idea of payback, trying to show his son just what he could miss by not being a part of the family.  
  
Arthur picked his mobile up and scrolled through his contacts until he found Morgana. He had just spoken to her three weeks ago, right after one of her doctor’s appointments. She was supposed to find out if she was having a boy or a girl, but the baby wouldn’t uncross his or her legs. She had been in such a good mood then, happy with Leon, happy with their new flat. They had moved to South Wales, Cardiff to be exact, where Leon was a police officer still and Morgana wrote freelance for one of the local newspapers.  
  
Morgana picked up on the fifth ring. “I’m in the middle of lunch with Leon – it’s his day off – and I’m _only_ answering because it’s you. I’ve ignored calls from all our other friends. How the fuck are you?”  
  
“Are you going to speak like that when your baby comes?”  
  
Morgana laughed. “Probably, but I’m trying to swear as much as I can now so hopefully it’ll get out of my system. How’s America? How’s Merlin?”  
  
“Fine. Good.”  
  
“You sound odd. Is something wrong?”  
  
Arthur swallowed and shut his eyes as he spoke. “When was the last time you spoke to Mum?”  
  
“Oh, Christ, I don’t know. I tried calling before Christmas, but she said she couldn’t speak to me, not after I disgraced the family by running off and eloping. Said the wedding guests were mortified at my behavior, but personally I think mostly everyone was relieved they didn’t have to sit through a boring wedding ceremony.”  
  
“Have you spoken to her recently?”  
  
“Right around New Year’s.” Morgana laughed again. “She sounded like such a train wreck. I think she was pissed, honestly. I suspect I won’t hear from her or Dad until the baby is born and then they’ll want to make amends. Leon is here next to me, nodding. We’ve discussed it before. Though neither of us is too fussed that they’re not in our lives right now.”  
  
“Morgana, I just . . .”  
  
“Arthur? You sound terrible. Has something happened?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I tried calling home but no one answered. Then I tried Mum’s mobile, but it was disconnected—”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“So I called Dad at his office, but . . .”  
  
“But what? Arthur!”  
  
“He refused to speak with me so long as I was still living with Merlin—”  
  
“Fuck him,” interrupted Morgana. “God, he is such an arse.” Arthur could picture her rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples in frustration.  
  
“Right. Well. His receptionist—”  
  
“Was it Maggie? She is always such a doll.”  
  
“Stop interrupting me, Morgana!” snapped Arthur.  
  
“Jesus, don’t yell.”  
  
“Sorry,” replied Arthur, lowering his voice. “I don’t know who the receptionist was, some woman, but Dad refused to speak with me and _she_ – the receptionist – told me Mum’s mobile was disconnected because she . . . well . . .” Arthur choked on the words. “Because she had a stroke.”  
  
“ _WHAT_?” cried Morgana, practically screaming the word.  
  
“And died.”  
  
There was silence.  
  
“Morgana?”  
  
“What the _fuck_ , Arthur?”  
  
“I don’t know!” said Arthur wretchedly. “I don’t even know. What the fuck is going on? Part of me feels like this is some fucking lesson Dad is trying to teach me, but what if she really is? I mean, do you honestly think he would just not tell us? And how could no one else tell us either?”  
  
“This is so fucked up. I think this is the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened. I hate him. I bloody well _hate_ him.”  
  
“Yes, I know, but you’re so much closer than I am. You have to find out what’s going on.”  
  
He could hear Morgana’s heavy breathing on the other end of the line. Arthur rubbed his palms on his pajama bottoms; he was sweating even though the hotel room was cold.  
  
“I don’t think any of Mum and Dad’s friends know the numbers to our mobiles and I’ve moved flats several times in the last couple years, but you’ve lived in the same house, yeah? How could none of them have contacted us?”  
  
“Perhaps Dad lied to them, told them we just weren’t coming to her funeral. Otherwise it doesn’t make sense.”  
  
“Oh my god. This is absolutely not happening. Look, I’m going to call you back. I think I have the number to Dr. Pennington. I don’t know anyone else. We don’t have any other family – no aunts or uncles who are still alive. No grandparents. No cousins. No one other than our father to tell us if our mother died.”  
  
“All right, call me back.”  
  
Morgana sighed and Arthur could hear the wetness of it, the tears that were in her eyes. He knew his sister well enough to know exactly how she was feeling.  
  
“How much are these long distances calls anyway? Thank god for trust funds, yeah? Keep your mobile on.”  
  
Without waiting for Arthur to reply, Morgana ended the call. Arthur picked himself off the floor and opened the bathroom door. Merlin was still asleep in the large bed, curled under the blankets. Arthur sat down in one of the armchairs near the large window. He parted the curtains, careful to not open them all the way and let in too much light while Merlin slept. He sat back and swallowed against the lump that was in his throat. He refused to cry until he knew exactly what was happening. His veins pumped with so much emotion his hands shook, the sadness and anger and rage all mixed together, battling to see which feeling would win and take over.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
Arthur turned and looked over at the bed. Merlin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He yawned and pushed the blankets away. His chest was bare and he only had on a pair of boxers. He was all simple parallel lines, smooth, flat, and very male. The simplicity of Merlin’s body made Arthur ache for him and suddenly anger won out and he kicked the tiny coffee table in front of him over.  
  
Merlin jumped out of bed and ran to Arthur. His hands were cold on Arthur’s back as Arthur leaned forward and put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. His body shook as tears rolled down his cheeks.  
  
“I think New York is bad for us,” joked Merlin, kneeling down in front of Arthur. “Every time we come, you cry.”  
  
Arthur looked up. Merlin attempted to smile and it made Arthur laugh. He sniffed back his tears and shook his head.  
  
“I think my mum died,” he said.  
  
Merlin’s jaw dropped in shock. “Are you serious? What happened?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Arthur shook his head and looked down at his bare feet. Somehow he knew that if he looked at Merlin he wouldn’t be able to keep from crying. He told him about the phone conversation with his father’s receptionist and then the conversation with Morgana. “It’s so infuriating,” he finished, “because I know I left Camelot and England behind, but . . .” he shook his head, “but this shouldn’t be happening.”  
  
“Your father is a complete moron,” said Merlin. “I’ve never met him and it’s a good thing we don’t live in England any more, or I’d be on the first train to Camelot to punch him in the face.”  
  
“Thanks,” said Arthur, “even though I know you’d never punch anyone.”  
  
“It’s amazing how _angry_ your father makes me and I’m never around him – oh, your phone is vibrating.”  
  
Arthur looked down at his mobile, which was still clutched in his hand. “It’s Morgana.”  
  
“Answer it,” implored Merlin.  
  
Arthur pressed his phone and held it to his ear. “Hi.”  
  
On the other end of the line, he could hear Morgana sniveling. “I called Dr. Pennington,” she forced out, clearly holding back her sobs. “It’s all true. The stroke – back in February – Dad found her at home – she was just _gone_ – he told – he told _everyone_ – all his friends and – everyone that we were – that we didn’t want to come! _I fucking hate him._ ”  
  
Arthur was silent, his breath quickening. Merlin sat on the arm of the chair and rubbed his back. He wanted to throw his mobile across the room and just sink into Merlin until he was completely lost in him.  
  
“I’m never speaking to him again. Nothing – _nothing_ – can forgive his behavior.” Morgana choked and coughed. “I’ve got to hang up. I’ll – I’ll call you tomorrow . . . when I’ve calmed – calmed down.”  
  
“Morgana,” said Arthur, “I love you.”  
  
Morgana let out a sob and Arthur knew she was nodding her head, even though he couldn’t see it. He ended the call and let his mobile fall on the carpet. His eyes turned and looked up at Merlin.  
  
“Don’t ever leave,” he said suddenly.  
  
Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I won’t.”  
  
“I need—” But Arthur couldn’t finish his sentence. He covered his face with his hands again and leaned forward. “I’m going to be ill.” He jumped up and raced to the bathroom, throwing up the coffee and water he’d drank earlier when he’d woken up. Merlin stood in the doorway. Arthur couldn’t see him, but he could feel him. Merlin had seen Arthur get sick before – once when he’d drunk too much and one when he caught a nasty stomach bug that had gone through the hospital. He’d learned that Arthur liked to be sick alone.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” asked Merlin. “I’ll do whatever you need. Water? Orange juice? Breakfast? I could do a strip tease for you. Or sing. You always laugh when I sing, which isn’t really very nice, but—”  
  
“Merlin.”  
  
“I know, I know, shut up.”  
  
Arthur shook his head. He flushed his sick down the toilet and turned to the sink. He grabbed his toothpaste and put a giant glob of it on his toothbrush. “No, keep talking. It makes me feel better.” He began to furiously brush his teeth.  
  
“Um,” began Merlin, “but you always get so annoyed when I talk. I talk too much, I know. And usually I stop when you say ‘shut, up, _Mer_ lin.’”  
  
Arthur laughed and sprayed toothpaste all over the sink. He rinsed his mouth with water and wiped his mouth on one of the hand-towels.   
  
“You do an excellent impression of me.”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I practice behind your back. You yell, I silently imitate while making faces and rude hand gestures.”  
  
“Ah,” said Arthur, “I knew you had no respect.” He tried to smile, but it was hard.  
  
“Seriously,” said Merlin. “Tell me what you want to do today. Want to cancel the museum?”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“We can stay here. Order movies on the television and eat loads of room service.”  
  
Arthur nodded again.  
  
“I’ll get the menu, you choose the movie. Unless your stomach—?”  
  
“No, I’ll be all right.”  
  
Arthur walked past Merlin and sat down on the bed. He took the remote from the bedside table and looked at it. He suddenly stood and went to Merlin, hugging him tightly. “Thanks,” he said.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For you – for just you.” He felt the wretched twisting in his chest again, an unexplainable feeling. It was unlike the sadness he’d felt when his uncle died; it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Pulling back, Arthur lightly kissed Merlin’s mouth.  
  
“What?” said Merlin.  
  
“I know kids are supposed to watch their parents die but not like this. Our kids would never hear about our deaths from a fucking secretary. Even if I was furious with them, I’d call them and make them come home.”  
  
Merlin opened his mouth as though to speak, but closed it before saying anything. His eyes seemed to search Arthur’s, but for what, Arthur didn’t know.  
  
“Do you think about that?” asked Merlin carefully.  
  
“About what?”  
  
“About . . . kids. You said ‘our kids.’”  
  
“Oh,” replied Arthur. He dropped his hands from Merlin’s hips and shrugged. He waked backwards until he was at the bed again and sat down. Merlin stood in front of him, his knees inside Arthur’s, his hands on Arthur’s shoulders.  
  
“Well? Do you?”  
  
“I don’t know,” replied Arthur honestly. “I suppose I’ve thought . . . once or twice . . . about what it might be like to have kids.”  
  
“With me?”  
  
“No, with Elena. Yes, with you, you twit. Not now. Not soon. But someday. Perhaps.”  
  
“I didn’t know that.”  
  
“Do you want kids?” asked Arthur, nervous to hear the answer.  
  
“I don’t know . . . yes,” said Merlin. “I think they’d all be spoiled rotten, to be honest. I would be the worst disciplinarian _ever_.”  
  
“That’s why I’d be there, to enforce all the rules.”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Yes. You’re a complete hard-ass. Hard-arse? These Americans are taking the British away from me.”  
  
Merlin was so silly sometimes; it made Arthur’s heart swell.  
  
“I’ve thought about it the last six months,” admitted Arthur, “in the abstract, I suppose. I’ve thought about what would be so awful that my kids could possibly do that would make me refuse to speak to them and completely disown them. And now? I can’t think of a single thing that a child could do that I wouldn’t even call to tell them that their mother – or father, as the case may be – had died. It’s – it’s – it’s—”  
  
“Unacceptable,” finished Merlin.  
  
“Yes,” whispered Arthur, feeling the tears well up again.  
  
Merlin bent down and kissed him. When he pulled away, he smiled. “Spinach omelet for you? Or French toast?”  
  
“Both,” said Arthur. He kept his eyes on Merlin as the uncontrollable tears built up behind his eyes and pushed forward and down his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes furiously.  
  
Merlin kept smiling, although it went from loving to sad, as he picked up the hotel phone. Arthur watched him in wonderment. Here was a man who’d stuck by him, who had given him so many chances, who’d let him fuck everything up and put the pieces back together, and he was still here, through all the bad times. And now Arthur had let slip a little secret about himself, a secret he’d never told anybody else, even Morgana. It was just a passing thought, something that neither of them was ready for, but something that perhaps, one day, they’d both could have – together.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
Going back to work was difficult, but Arthur managed to get through the next couple of weeks. He was grateful for Merlin’s support, more so than Merlin could ever truly know. The weeks quickly ran by and soon it was the fourth of July again, and the ED was full of morons with burns all over their bodies from barbeques gone wrong and homemade fireworks that exploded without warning. Again, Merlin and Arthur worked on the holiday while many other doctors and nurses requested time off since they weren’t American and weren’t particularly fussed over missing fireworks.  
  
The days melted away and soon Arthur’s mobile was ringing in the middle of the night. When he answered, it was Leon, excited to tell him the news that Morgana had given birth to a healthy boy who they named Mordred. Arthur extended his congratulations and said he wanted photos emailed to him immediately. When he hung up, he curled around Merlin and said, “Holy shit, I’m an uncle.”  
  
Merlin just smiled.  
  
The heat of the summer extended all the way into October and while the leaves turned orange and yellow, Arthur had yet to move his winter clothes from the back of the closet to the front. Lance and Gwen got married on the beach in South Carolina and half the hospital requested time off to drive the five hours and go. Elena had tried to get Arthur to stay and work, but he told her he’d quit before he missed Lance’s wedding, and in truth, she hadn’t tried very hard to get him to stay anyway. So he stood as Lance’s best man and watched them get married and ate seafood at their reception in the beachside hotel. It was lovely and while they only had three days off to enjoy the wedding, they made sure they had fun. It was their first trip to the beach.  
  
Halloween came and Elena had her annual Halloween party. Arthur allowed Merlin to talk him into wearing matching costumes, even though he thought it was a terrible idea, and he got gloriously drunk next to Elena’s pool. They went to Gwen’s afterwards, where they continued to get sloshed. Arthur announced his love for Merlin in front of Lance and Gwen, and a few other various nurses and techs from the hospital, and when he said, “We’re going to have a baby,” Merlin ushered him outside and called them a taxi.  
  
Morgana flew over from Cardiff in early November, having to stop once in Amsterdam before flying directly to the States. The plane she took from Cardiff to Amsterdam was a nasty twin-engine “piece of hell,” but at least she booked a suite on the flight from Amsterdam to America where Mordred could sleep next to her on the bed – “My seat was a bed,” Morgana gushed. “I feel sorry for every poor person who was stuck in coach. Unbelievable. Everyone should fly on an Airbus.”  
  
It was lovely to have his sister around and Arthur couldn’t wait to get home from the hospital each day to see her and Mordred. The baby hardly ever cried and he seemed to find Merlin _fascinating_.  
  
“Look at them,” Morgana said over dinner. Merlin had gotten takeaway after work and when Mordred began to fuss, he got up to play with him while Arthur and Morgana finished their dinner.  
  
Arthur looked from his dining room table into the living room where Merlin was on the floor, making faces at Mordred. The baby was on his tummy, looking up at Merlin, and every time Merlin made a face, Mordred squealed with laughter.  
  
“How is Leon fairing without you there?” asked Arthur.  
  
Morgana smiled. “I miss him terribly. I didn’t realize how much. We’ve never been apart from each other for more than a few days and I’m here for two weeks! I’ve never heard Mordred laugh like that.”  
  
“He seems to really fancy Merlin.”  
  
Morgana gave her brother a look that Arthur refused to interpret.   
  
“I’m so glad you and Merlin got to meet.”  
  
“ _Finally_ ,” said Morgana, rolling her eyes. “He’s lovely. I adore him.”  
  
“Good, I’m glad.”  
  
Merlin picked Mordred up and walked over to the table where Arthur and Morgana sat. “I think he needs to be changed,” he said.  
  
Morgana held out her arms. “All right.”  
  
“No, I can do it,” said Merlin, “I don’t mind.”  
  
Morgana looked surprised but she nodded. “Sure. He has a bag full of stuff in the guestroom.”   
  
Merlin nodded and took Mordred upstairs. They could hear the squealing a moment later and they both laughed.  
  
“He’s going to sleep tonight, I’m sure all that laughing has exhausted him. Arthur, your boyfriend is amazing with my kid.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I know. I didn’t realize he was so good.”  
  
When Merlin came back downstairs, he handed Mordred back to Morgana. “I need water. All that noise-making made me thirsty.”  
  
Arthur handed Merlin his glass of water. “Here, have mine.”  
  
“Thanks.” Merlin gulped down all of Arthur’s water and handed him back the empty glass.  
  
“You’re really amazing with my kid,” repeated Morgana, looking up at Merlin. “I mean, _really_. I’m surprised you didn’t go into pediatrics.”  
  
“I thought about it,” said Merlin, “but I just couldn’t stand to watch kids get so sick. There’s something really unnatural about it. I don’t think I could handle it.”  
  
Arthur took hold of Merlin’s wrist and tugged him closer. Merlin smiled down at him.  
  
“Maybe one day,” said Merlin. “In the future.”  
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
“I think they’re having a moment, Mordred,” Morgana whispered to her son. Mordred drooled in response.  
  
“Shut up, Morgana,” said Arthur with a smirk.  
  
“Well, I think you’d make great parents,” said Morgana honestly. She blew a raspberry on Mordred’s stomach. “Especially you, Merlin. This whole week you’ve been a godsend. Normally I have Leon to help with the baby and he’s brilliant, honestly, but I was afraid of having to do this all on my own while I was visiting here.”  
  
“Nonsense,” said Merlin. “You’re always welcome here as long as you bring Mordred. Otherwise, don’t bother.”  
  
Morgana laughed. “Oh, I see how it is.”  
  
Merlin grinned.  
  
That night, Arthur read in bed while Merlin surfed the internet on his laptop. Arthur barely concentrated on the words in front of him. Finally, he put the book down and turned towards Merlin. He placed a hand on Merlin’s hip and worked his hand underneath Merlin’s t-shirt until he felt skin.  
  
“What’s up?” asked Merlin.  
  
“Do you really want kids?”  
  
Merlin sighed. “Yeah, I think I do.”  
  
“If we couldn’t have one, would just being with me be enough?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Yes, I think so.”  
  
“Because I’ve heard it can be really difficult for two gay men to adopt.”  
  
Merlin nodded again.  
  
“So . . . if we couldn’t, I just wanted to make sure you would be all right with just me instead of a real family.”  
  
Merlin looked thoughtful. He put his laptop on his bedside table and laid down on his side, curling into Arthur. “You’re enough,” said Merlin. “Honest.”  
  
“I’ve been thinking . . . I’m a resident now at the hospital, but I thought I might – and this is completely mad, but I thought I might go to school again, for an MBA.”  
  
“Why on earth would you do that?”  
  
“Because if I could get into administration, then I could run part of the hospital myself and maybe even one day be in charge of, well, an entire hospital – as much as any one doctor is in charge of a hospital.”  
  
“That sounds like loads of work.”  
  
“Well, I like being in charge. I think I’m a natural leader and if I was in administration, I could have weekends off, work more regulated hours. I wouldn’t be at the hospital until three in the morning and if – _if_ we decided to try and have a family, then I could be home and do mad family things like have dinner together.”  
  
“You’ve really thought about this?”  
  
“Yeah, I really have.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“There’s a fourteen-month MBA program beginning in January, actually . . . at Candler University, so it’d be right next door to the hospital.”  
  
“You applied, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” admitted Arthur.  
  
“And got in?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“You’re _out of your mind_.”  
  
“I know. I already talked to Elena and we’ve worked out a schedule for me for the next year. The program is for people who work full time. Classes are on the weekends twice a month – all day classes, but only on the first and third Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays of the month.”  
  
“Oh my god,” said Merlin.  
  
“I know. But I wanted everything in place before I told you. Because I’ll want to die over this next year, I really will. I’ll want you to kill me, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.”  
  
“I’ll never see you.”  
  
“Yes, you will!” said Arthur. “We’ll have to work something out, but please, I’m doing this for us. You cannot get into administration these days without a degree in business or twenty years experience, neither of which I have. It’ll give me a huge edge. Each of the doctors who are head of their departments at Candler at Grayson has a business degree.”  
  
“I know,” said Merlin, “I know them all. You forget, Gwen knows _everybody_ and because I know Gwen, I know everybody as well.”  
  
“Of course you do. So? What do you think?”  
  
“I think you’re absolutely mad. When will you sleep?”  
  
“I won’t. By February of next, next year, I’ll be finished.”  
  
“Un-fucking-believable.”  
  
“You think I shouldn’t do it.”  
  
Merlin sat up and looked down at Arthur. He pushed the blankets away and slid over Arthur’s body, his knees on either side of Arthur’s hips. He bent down and kissed Arthur, snaking his hands underneath Arthur’s pajamas. He stroked Arthur, pulled him free of his clothes, and continued to touch him until Arthur was hard.  
  
“God, your hands feel good.”  
  
“Would you want to do this if I didn’t want kids?” asked Merlin, his breath warm against Arthur’s mouth.  
  
Arthur shook his head. “No, probably not, but it just seems to make _sense_ . . . in the long-run – oh god, don’t stop.”  
  
Merlin reached over to his bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out the lube he kept hidden there. He put a little on his fingers and threw the tube back in the drawer. He took off his pajamas and boxers, careful to keep the lube away from his clothes. His one hand returned to slowly – _slowly_ – stroking Arthur’s cock while his other hand reached around and opened up his own body.  
  
“That is so fucking hot,” said Arthur, licking his lips.  
  
Merlin smirked. “You’re so easy.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I know.”  
  
Merlin sighed. He lifted himself up and positioned himself right over Arthur’s cock. He guided it inside, slowly grinding down until Arthur was fully inside him. Arthur moaned, Merlin groaned, and together they moved. Merlin pushed down, and Arthur pushed up, in slow motions.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” breathed Arthur.  
  
“I – oh shit – support you,” gasped Merlin, closing his eyes and clenching his muscles around Arthur. “Whatever you want to do.”  
  
“Mmm,” hummed Arthur, his fingers digging into Merlin’s hips.   
  
They stayed that way, Merlin riding Arthur as hard as he could, trying to keep their voices down so Morgana wouldn’t overhear. When Arthur came, he covered his mouth with his hand, biting down on the skin as to not cry out. Merlin did the same and spilled all over Arthur’s stomach. Merlin collapsed on top of Arthur, wincing as Arthur pulled out of him, his come getting them both all sticky.  
  
Merlin got up a few minutes later and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. He cleaned himself up and threw a new towel at Arthur. Arthur wiped off his stomach and flopped back down on their bed, tossing the towel on the floor.  
  
“Come here,” he said, reaching for Merlin. When Merlin was nestled between his arms, his head in the crook of Arthur’s neck, right where it met his shoulder, Arthur said, “I’d do anything for you. I’m kind of shit with words sometimes and I don’t always do the right thing. I still pull away in public a lot and I try, but . . .” He sighed. “This would be for us, for our future.”  
  
“I know,” whispered Merlin. “And it’s brilliant. I’ll support you however I can, except for in your Accounting class. I was shit in maths.”  
  
“That’s all right.”  
  
Merlin yawned. “I’d do anything for you, too, you know.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “I know.” And he knew it was the truth, too.

 **26 December**  
  
The car ride to Camelot was quicker than either of them realized. It took some shouting from Merlin for Arthur to remember which side of the road to drive on, and he said it felt so alien driving on the right side of the car again. They found a hotel and as soon as they had stripped out of their clothes, they were asleep on top of the bed. Arthur woke first the next morning, and Merlin soon after. Merlin blinked against the white sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtain where they hadn’t been pulled completely shut. He let his mind wander to the last few years with Arthur. They’d been hard, then easy, then hard again. During this last year, he’d almost given up once or twice, but he would never tell Arthur that. Once he’d gone into the closet, taken out all his clothes and shoved them in his suitcases, only to immediately hang everything back up.  
  
Arthur had spent all of last year in school and at the hospital. Between working and studying, Merlin had felt completely neglected. He knew it was going to happen and had encouraged Arthur to take on another degree, so every time he got angry for watching another episode of _Project Runway_ alone, he silently berated himself for being such a shit boyfriend. If it wasn’t for him, Arthur wouldn’t be trying to get into administration. It was for _him_ that Arthur was trying to better himself and better their lives; it was for their future that all this was happening.  
  
And now the year from hell was over. Arthur didn’t automatically get a new job now that he could put three new letters at the end of his name, but it was a start, and Merlin had the sneaking suspicion that Arthur was looking for jobs in other cities, possibly New York, where they had both expressed an interesting in living again. He was absolutely right, though: Administration was vastly different from actively practicing medicine and it could mean a more stable life for them. Merlin closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling terrible that he hadn’t been more gracious over the past year.  
  
He turned over and tucked himself into Arthur, mumbling into his neck.  
  
“What was that?” asked Arthur, pressing his lips to the top of Merlin’s head.  
  
“I said, thank you for this past year.”  
  
Arthur laughed. “I don’t know why you’re thanking me. You never saw me.”  
  
“I know, but . . . you did it for _us_ and I don’t think I was as understanding as I might could’ve been.”  
  
Arthur cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.  
  
“There’s an open position at a hospital in New York,” said Arthur. “My professor told me about it and wrote me a letter of recommendation. It’d be working in the Medical Affairs office and definitely over forty hours a week, I imagine, but I’d have a set schedule, weekends off. It’s not even a lot of money, which is ridiculous because I don’t need to really make money anyway.”  
  
“Are you going to interview for it?”  
  
“Interviews are in March, but I’d have to have my degree first, which” – Arthur smirked – “won’t be a problem, and yeah, if you think you could be happy living in New York again.”  
  
“I’d miss the hospital – and Gwen.”  
  
“She comes to New York to visit her family a lot so I’m sure you’d see her.”  
  
Merlin nodded.  
  
“But New York seems more . . . accepting than the south where we live now. We may have a better chance of adopting there.”  
  
Something raw caught in Merlin’s throat and he thought he might choke. His heart beat somewhere between his ears and he was glad to be lying down so his knees wouldn’t give out. Sometimes Arthur was completely overwhelming without even meaning to be.  
  
Merlin sat up. “All right, let’s go see your father.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “This could be terrible.”  
  
“We won’t know until we go. If he doesn’t want to be in our lives, then he misses out on you and me and the family we’ll have one day.”  
  
Arthur nodded and stood. They showered and dressed in silence, quickly packing their bags and leaving the hotel room. In the lobby, Merlin stood a couple of feet behind Arthur, next to the bags, as Arthur checked out and paid. He was sleepy and anxious but so happy to be with Arthur.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
Merlin nodded and picked up his bag while Arthur took the other. As they walked out of the hotel, Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s. Merlin started, unsure of the gesture. He looked down at their hands, where Arthur had entwined their fingers, and felt gobsmacked. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. He squeezed Arthur’s hand and felt Arthur squeeze back.  
  
They held hands all the way to the car.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
“It’s that house there,” said Arthur, slowing the car. He put it in park but kept it running.  
  
Merlin looked at the house across the street. It was quite possibly the largest house he had ever seen. The drive in front was circular, and a car sat in front of the front door. It was a Porsche, sporty and completely unsafe, but fit seamlessly against the backdrop of the three-level house. The trim was all in white, the brick a muted red, and the shutters were drawn over each window.  
  
“Looks like your father’s going somewhere,” said Merlin. “The house looks almost boarded-up.”  
  
Arthur undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. Merlin got out quickly and walked to the other side of the car. He leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets to stay warm, and watched Arthur.  
  
“Perhaps you should ring him,” suggested Merlin.  
  
“He never picks up when I call,” replied Arthur. “I think I should invite him to the coffeehouse just down the street. I think if we went inside, he might feel as though this is an ambush and I don’t want him on the defensive. He’s so bloody stubborn that it would completely ruin the point of coming.”  
  
“So what d’you think? Knock him up and tell him to meet us?”  
  
Arthur was silent, his back still to Merlin, facing towards his childhood home. Merlin pushed off the car and placed a hand on his shoulder. Arthur reached up with his opposite hand and put it on top of Merlin’s. He smiled at him, sad but warm.  
  
Just then, something caught Merlin’s attention. “Oh,” he said, “is that your father?”  
  
Arthur’s head jerked back towards the house. An older man with gray hair had opened the front door and walked towards the car, two large suitcases in either hand. He opened the boot of the car and threw them inside. Just as he was shutting it, he looked up, and Merlin knew he’d seen them.  
  
“Shit,” breathed Arthur under his breath. “Come on.” He dropped his hand and walked across the street. Merlin hesitated before slowly following. He wanted to be there for Arthur, but he also knew his presence would anger Uther and he didn’t want to be the cause of another family blow up.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
Arthur stopped a few feet away from his father. “Happy Christmas,” he said.  
  
“Christmas was yesterday. What are you doing here?”  
  
Merlin couldn’t help but stare at Uther. His presence was commanding, stiff, and made Merlin completely nervous.  
  
“I was in England – well, obviously – in Ealdor to be exact and it’s so close, I thought I’d stop by. . . .”  
  
“Ealdor? What an utter waste of a town. What on earth possessed you to go to Ealdor?”  
  
Merlin could see Arthur physically stiffen.   
  
“Merlin’s mum lives there and we spent the holiday with her.”  
  
“Merlin?” said Uther.  
  
“Hello,” said Merlin, giving slight wave and smiling, but the smile was soon gone as Uther continued to stare at his son and completely ignore Merlin altogether.  
  
“I was going to see if you wanted a coffee with us at that little shop down the road. I noticed driving in that it’s still there.”  
  
“What would I want to go there for?” asked Uther, his face expressionless. It gave Merlin chills.  
  
“To sit and talk,” answered Arthur, “with me and Merlin. We have rather a lot of catching up to do.”  
  
Uther shook his head. “I don’t think we do. I seem to remember forbidding you to ever bring Merlin to this house, so I would appreciate it if you got off my property before I have to phone the police.”  
  
“Dad,” said Arthur, and Merlin could hear the wretchedness in his voice.  
  
“No one calls ms that anymore, especially not when they bring home their _gay lovers_. I could perhaps talk to you, but not with _him_ here.”  
  
Arthur sighed and wet his lips, taking in a deep breath. Merlin wasn’t sure what Arthur was going to do, but he was ready to take Arthur’s lead.  
  
“This is just _me_ , Dad,” said Arthur. “This is me and if you ask Merlin to leave, then you ask me to leave, because he’s with me and always will be. It’s just like you and Mum—”  
  
“Don’t you dare bring your mother into this.”  
  
“But Mum was always with you, always invited to parties with you, always a part of your life. Merlin is like that for me. You can’t ask him to leave, but not me. It’s either both of us or neither of us. Merlin is not only part of my life – he _is_ my life.”  
  
“ _I will not hear this_!”  
  
Suddenly everyone’s attention turned towards the front door as a thin blonde emerged from inside. She was younger than Uther, but not by much, yet she looked youthful and was very stunning. She was in the middle of talking to Uther as she thumbed a message on her mobile.  
  
“Uther, darling, I looked everywhere for your watch, but I simply – oh.” She looked up from her phone. “Hello.” Her eyes sought Uther’s. “What’s happening out here then?”  
  
“Nothing, Catrina,” replied Uther. “These men just needed directions.” Turning back to Arthur, Uther cleared his throat and said, “The coffeehouse is about a kilometer away. Go back the way you came and make a left at the end of the road. You can’t miss it. It’s only open until four this afternoon. Holiday hours.”  
  
Merlin wondered if Uther was making that up, but either way, his dismissal of them was blatant.  
  
“Directions?” repeated Arthur. “Right. Well, I’ll be there until closing, waiting for my father, hoping he decides to show up and talk to his only son.”  
  
“Oh,” said Catrina, looking awkward. “Sir, are you all right?”  
  
Uther held up a hand, silencing her. “He’s fine. Stress of the holidays, am I right, boy? If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for our flight.”  
  
“We’re going to Paris for the new year!” cried Catrina, her eyes beaming with delight.  
  
Arthur nodded. “Right,” he said. “Have fun and all that.” He turned to Merlin. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Thanks for the directions,” said Merlin, daring Uther to look at him, but the older man just took his keys and went to his front door, locking it. Merlin waited for a moment before turning and following Arthur.  
  
They waited inside the car, Arthur staring at the silver Porsche as it peeled out of the driveway and down the street, disappearing from view as it turned left at the cross street. Merlin placed his hand on the gear shift, palm up. Without breaking his gaze with the horizon, Arthur curled his fingers around Merlin’s. He brought their hands to his mouth and kissed the back of Merlin’s hand.  
  
“That could’ve been worse,” said Merlin. “I guess.”  
  
Arthur was silent.  
  
“D’you want to go to the coffeehouse?” asked Merlin. “Just in case? You never know. Your father could show up.”  
  
Arthur snorted. “Right.” He shook his head and let go of Merlin’s hand. He turned the ignition on the car and started down the street. He drove slowly, well below the speed limit. “Perhaps . . .” he began then shook his head. “We’ll go to the coffeehouse, I suppose, and then, I don’t know.”  
  
“You could show me around Camelot before we drive back to Ealdor,” suggested Merlin. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the city where you grew up.”  
  
“There’s a square up here. We’re about ten kilometers outside of the actual city of Camelot. These are the, er, suburbs, if you will.”  
  
Arthur drove through the square, pointing out the sandwich shop where he and his mates used to go after football practice, the bookstore where he used to hide in the corner and read books his parents would never approve of, the bowling alley where his mates used to go on weekends off campus from boarding school, and the coffeehouse where all the university students went to study. It was bits and pieces of Arthur’s life, the life he didn’t like speaking of because it was all during his years in England, years he wanted to forget. But it was like reading a prequel and finding out the lovely history behind his favorite character. Merlin grinned and committed each of these places to memory, putting more and more pieces together that made up the person of Arthur.  
  
Arthur parked on the side of the street. They walked down the sidewalk, which was made of rounded stones; their shoulders brushed but nothing more. Merlin’s fingers shook from the cold as he buttoned-up his coat. He pulled Arthur into the coffee shop and ordered them both drinks. He paid with his bank card; he had some notes, but he hadn’t touched British money in so long he hardly understood the exchange rate anymore.  
  
Merlin grabbed a newspaper and forced Arthur to read it with him, trying to keep his mind off his father, off the emptiness of the small café. There were a few people there, mostly university students studying even though classes were surely out for holiday. Whenever Merlin spoke, he made sure his voice was low. They were quiet for a while, Arthur staring into his coffee cup, Merlin reading through the _Camelot Times_.  
  
“It’s half past four,” said Arthur.  
  
“Suppose the coffeehouse isn’t closing at four after all,” said Merlin. “Shall we wait a little longer?”  
  
“No,” said Arthur firmly. “I can’t. Let’s go.”  
  
Arthur stood and walked straight to the door. Merlin scrambled to gather their mugs and bring them back to the barista behind the counter before running after Arthur. Outside was cold, as most Decembers were, and Merlin rushed to catch up with Arthur. He was going towards the car, as though fully ready to leave Camelot behind.  
  
Suddenly Merlin stopped and grabbed hold of Arthur’s arm.   
  
“Stop,” he said.  
  
Arthur looked at Merlin, confusion in his eyes.  
  
“Look,” said Merlin, nodding towards the shop he’d made them stop in front of.   
  
“A jewelry store? Really, Merlin?”  
  
Merlin grinned. “Why not.” He held up his hand. “You bought me a ring and I really think you ought to have one.”  
  
“I don’t want one just because I gave you one.”  
  
“Don’t be so ridiculous, Arthur. Trust me a little more. If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t do this. So let’s go.”  
  
“Don’t you think we should wait until we’re home?”  
  
“Why?” Merlin shrugged. “If there’s really nothing here that you like, fine, but it seems proper. That way we can remember this Christmas as they one where we exchanged rings and forget about your father altogether. We’ll pretend he never happened and only remember the good parts.”  
  
“The good parts,” repeated Arthur.  
  
“Yes, where you gave me this ring and I gave you one as well. Where we promised to spend the rest of our lives together. Where you only had two more months of school before we can start living our future. Where we talked about selling our house and letting a flat in New York and finding an adoption agency to help us be parents.”  
  
“But we haven’t talked about selling our house or New York or being parents.”  
  
“Yet,” replied Merlin, “but we’ve got an eight-hour plane ride home.”  
  
Arthur paused and then laughed loudly. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to let me sleep on the plane?”  
  
Merlin shook his head. “No way.”  
  
Arthur took hold of Merlin’s hand and smiled with a small shake of his head. “All right,” he said, “then we can talk about all those things for _eight hours_ on the ride home.”  
  
Merlin knew his grin was wide, but he couldn’t help it. He held Arthur’s hand tighter and bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling so full of _Arthur_ that he thought he might burst. Whatever ill feelings were inside Arthur seemed to melt away as he looked at Merlin, at the large smile on his face.  
  
“Let’s go inside,” said Merlin. “Please?”  
  
Arthur nodded. “All right, then.”  
  
Merlin grinned impossibly wider and pulled Arthur inside the shop. Merlin browsed while Arthur held back, looking slightly uncomfortable. The store was small, quaint, and a short, plump young woman worked behind the counter. She allowed them to look, took out rings for Merlin to look at. Finally Merlin found one he really fancied and showed it to Arthur.  
  
“Can you give us a moment?” Arthur asked the shop girl.  
  
She nodded and walked a few paces backward.  
  
“Why d’you look so scared?” asked Merlin.  
  
“M’not,” replied Arthur, his voice tired. He tried to force a smile. “I just want to make sure that _you’re_ sure, because once you do this, I don’t want you to ever take it back.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes; sometimes Arthur was so infuriating, like a brick wall lay in front of him that he refused to see around.  
  
“Of course I’m sure – are you daft, you prat? I love you.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “All right then.”  
  
“Arthur . . . I knew from the beginning. I knew you were bad for me, so I stayed away, but perhaps – maybe I was wrong, and you were rather good for me after all.”  
  
“I like the one you’ve got in your hand.”  
  
Merlin looked down at the band. “Brilliant.”   
  
Arthur took it and held it in the palm of his hand as though weighing it. He slipped it on his finger, his eyes lingering on his hand. Then he was kissing Merlin in the middle of the shop.  
  
Merlin took a sharp intake of breath, caught off guard at the feel of Arthur’s tongue sweeping across the inside of his mouth. Arthur’s hands pushed Merlin’s coat aside, his fingers digging into Merlin’s hips. Merlin whimpered against Arthur’s lips and pulled away, looking at Arthur, wishing they hadn’t already checked out of their hotel.  
  
“Pay for it and let’s get out of here,” whispered Arthur, his breath tickling Merlin’s ear.  
  
Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. He paid with his bank card and stuffed the receipt in his pocket. He thanked the shop girl for her help and exited with Arthur. When Arthur took his hand again, Merlin was only vaguely surprised.  
  
“You’ve been holding my hand loads lately,” said Merlin, lacing his fingers through Arthur’s.  
  
“Have I?”  
  
“You know you have.”  
  
Arthur shrugged. “I realized a long time ago you like a bit of hand holding because you’re a bit of a girl.”  
  
Merlin laughed. “I am _not_.”  
  
“You are. And it’s all right. Besides, people can change. I’ve changed.”  
  
“No.” Merlin shook his head. “That’s the thing. You’re exactly the same, just relaxed. I don’t want to change you – ever. I want you as you are.”  
  
“Ready to go back home?”  
  
“You’ve no idea.”  
  
Arthur tugged on Merlin’s hand and led him back to the car. Merlin looked at the small square, the rows of cafés and shops, and as beautiful as the buildings were, the sight was bittersweet. Then, at the car park, just across the street next to the coffeehouse, Merlin saw it, the silver Porsche.  
  
“Arthur,” he muttered, his feet slowing. “Is that your father’s car?”  
  
Arthur’s eyes scanned the road before settling on the car park. “No,” he said slowly, “it’s the wrong silver.”  
  
“Are you certain?”  
  
The silence that followed answered Merlin’s question.  
  
“Let’s go back to the coffee shop then,” implored Merlin.  
  
“No, Camelot is full of rich men. There are at least seven other doctors and businessmen here who have silver Porsches. It’s not him.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
Arthur swallowed and avoided Merlin’s eyes. “What if it’s not him?”  
  
“What if it is? You’d never forgive yourself if you refused to even find out.” After a long pause, Merlin continued, “Look, either way, I’ll follow you – either to the car and back to Ealdor or into the coffee shop. Either way.”  
  
“All right, then. Only because I can never say fucking no to you, Ems.”  
  
Merlin grinned and started walking towards the coffeehouse. “Let’s go! Let’s go see if your father’s come to make amends.”  
  
Arthur had never let go of Merlin’s hand and he held it as they walked towards the coffeehouse, towards whatever lay in front of them, together and joined.  
  
  


**__________**

  
  
**End.**  
  
  


**__________**


End file.
